


Second Chances

by Times New Roman (epicspartatime)



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: F/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26177584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicspartatime/pseuds/Times%20New%20Roman
Summary: Artemis survives the Gate with a little bit of luck and a lot of pain. Unfortunately, so has Opal. In a sense. Her memory is gone and she inhabits the body of Nopal, the clone she created to escape the clinic all those years ago. Artemis and Holly now find themselves with a seemingly innocent and sweet pixie on their hands, all the while trying to deal with the fallout of Opal's schemes. As the two personalities begin to bleed into each other, can Artemis and Holly find any good in a soul like Opal's? (alternate take after the TLG)
Relationships: Artemis Fowl II/Holly Short
Comments: 24
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

Artemis  _ leapt _ .

Perhaps this will be all that will be needed, he thought, letting a sliver of optimism break into his thoughts. After all, from how almost coordinated his jump was, the homebody genius thought that the universe ought to reward him.

Artemis’s feet left the grassy hill beneath him and he saw his hand pierce the shimmering green magic of Bruin Fadda’s spell. Artemis relaxed. It would all be okay. It  _ worked _ .

Things would be different now, of course. The Koboi disaster had wrought untold damage upon both the fairies and humans. The barriers and shields between the two had been dropped briefly, but it would be enough. There would be some smoothing out to be had, considering that the main culprit was, for once, on the Fair Folk’s side of the fence, but it was a new world. A new frontier. 

_ I could be an ambassador _ .

Then the spell slammed into him, feeling for all its etherealness like a brick wall. He slid down the magical corona neatly and would have viciously kicked it if he knew that wouldn’t simply result in a broken toe. As if he needed more maiming  _ now _ .

Artemis felt at his jacket pocket, delicate fingers wrapping around ancient leather and wood. Time for plan B.

Then,  _ I really don’t like plan B _ .

From the corner of his vision, Artemis spotted Holly and Butler. As expected they were barreling towards the magical hemisphere. From the looks on their faces, they appeared to be intending a rescue. If Foaly were in his ear right now, he imagined him nickering out something along the lines of, “ _ Wow, and I thought  _ I _ was the genius. _ ”

The Irish boy found himself surprisingly calm for all that he was in a rather dire situation. He even had time for imaginary centaur jokes. Then again, he _did_ have a way out. The only difficult part was working up the nerve.

“Butler!” he called out. “Stop Holly!”

The bodyguard reached out his massive arms and caught the elf in a tight bear-hug. She immediately tried nearly every trick to get out, even biting him, but Butler remained impassive. There was simply no escaping such a grip. Realizing this, she shot Artemis a look that could only be described as desperate. 

Artemis had the uncomfortable thought that the elf’s expression was uncannily similar to the past’s Opal before she had been summarily executed.

This more than anything spurred him on.

“Butler, please,” Holly gasped. “This isn’t right. It’s supposed to be me!”

“Wait,” said Butler, squinting at what his charge had just produced from his pocket. It appeared to be a dagger. “Just wait, Holly. He’s got a plan.”

He paused.

“What’s the plan, Artemis?” Butler asked, his voice conveying a certainty he did not have.

Artemis was waffling, considering the dagger.

“No,” the bodyguard breathed. Despair etched itself onto Butler’s features.

Holly drew the same conclusion and went limp in the man-mountain’s arms.

“Why?” she rasped. “The magic shouldn’t affect a human, Arty. Why hasn’t it released you?”

Artemis felt the magic scan his person, looking for something. And finding it in his eye socket.

“I have a fairy eye, Holly,” he said, stalling. “One of yours remember?”

He immediately winced at saying that, the implications of what he said sinking in. It pained him to see Holly’s face like that. A pallor had spread across her already ashen face like a white tar. Her eyes suddenly took on a very far away look. She looked like a broken doll in Butler’s grip.

_ I suspect she‘s thinking that she’s killed me with the eye.  _ Artemis thought.  _ Preposterous. I stole this eye. _

Nevertheless, he knew that he likely had seconds left. And if he died now, then Holly would be wracked with guilt for the rest of her considerably long life. Artemis, in no uncertain terms, would  _ never _ allow that.

_ No more stalling. It was unfortunate that the magic was precise enough to detect the eye, but clearly the warlocks of old were no slackers. You’re a logical creature, and you know what you’re about to do is the correct move to ensure you stay alive. _

But more important was the simple desire:

_ Holly, I’m coming. _

Artemis deftly brought the dagger to his eye and gouged it out. He tried very hard to not think about the questionable sanitation of a dagger that had been palmed from Beckett’s possessed body and likely been used to skin rabbits. Fortunately, he did not have to try very hard because  _ he was in blinding pain _ .

_ Hah, blinding _ , he thought. 

Then,  _ Did I just laugh at that? Oh god, I really  _ am _ going into shock _ .

Butler and Holly watched in abject horror as their friend buried a sharp length of steel in his eye socket. Artemis expertly disconnected the occipital nerve, and wrenched out the offending eye-ball with a stomach-churning  _ squelch _ . It bounced against the magical barrier and disappeared into the grass, leaving a light bloodstain.

It was a testament to their combined professionalism that the two outside didn’t immediately run towards Artemis, but that could be attributed to the fact that both of their jaws were wide open. Between Holly and Butler, they had seen their fair share of train-wrecks, some set off on their own accord, but impromptu ophthalmological surgery was new.

Their pause allowed Artemis to casually stroll through the magical corona. He passed through the magic as if it was simply eddies of early morning Irish fog. Artemis Fowl II straightened his tie.

Behind him, the green mist was sucked backwards into the Berserker Gate as if drawn by a vacuum. For a moment, Artemis was left standing, blood pooling down his gaping left eye socket. Butler released Holly and rushed to his charge’s side. 

By the time Butler caught Artemis in his hands, his charge was already blissfully unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

Opal felt weightless. It was like being on one of Foaly— _ that blasted centaur _ —’s MoonBelts. Except it wasn’t because all of the sudden Opal felt crushed. Everything was heavy. 

What was she doing again? 

No, she was  _ Opal Koboi _ . She would not be felled by something as simple as  _ amnesia _ . She focused on the highest end of her intellect and meditated. The pixie simulated countless scenarios, eliminating them one by one until she came upon the most likely explanation for her current predicament. Dark magic. The Berserker Gate. But what had happened with the second lock…? 

Suddenly it clicked into place. All the memories of the past twenty-four hours flooded into the forefront of her mind. She thought about all the pain and death caused. Particularly, all of the inconvenience that other people’s deaths inflicted upon her.

The pixie took a deep breath to begin a mantra. But of course, there was no breath to take. Her torso and the lungs were mere projections, magical shorthands which helped to ease her consciousness into the afterlife. She was dead, after all.

Opal Koboi raged. She gnashed her teeth, tore her immaculate hair, smashed the fabric of the plane with her manicured fingers until they were worn bloody. The damage was fixed immediately afterward as if it was never there. Which it wasn’t. Waves of rage rippled out into the inky-black void around her and she felt the place  _ shudder _ . She spat a word out into the endless space, dripping with hatred.

“ _ Fowl. _ ”

Suddenly, her purpose returned to her in a flood. Opal felt her focus sharpen into a razor’s edge directed at thoughts of revenge against a very certain mud-boy. Black magic thrummed at her fingertips. All that remained of what she used to restructure herself back in Atlantis. Enough for a bolt or two. Maybe. She could make it work.

Then a  _ tug. _ Opal looked up in annoyance at whatever was interrupting her concentration. She flexed her digits. There seemed to be a certain command that she held over her surroundings— _ of course there was.  _

_ I am the mistress of the world. Why should the fetters of the spirit realm be any different? _

Perhaps a punishment of whoever was distracting her would be in order. It would help her feel slightly better at any rate.

She oriented her spirit towards a tunnel of blinding white. It seemed similar to a time travel wormhole, but subtly different. Relaxing almost. There was the scent of… air. Clean air. Farming. Fairies planting acorns in the bends of rivers, magical sparks bringing joy and levity. Freedom.

Opal started. Violently. Blades of folded space exploded out from her, shredding the green mist that the tunnel was absorbing. The pixie did not need  _ relaxation _ . She wanted  _ revenge _ .

Opal saw a slow-moving sprite approach from the corner of her vision. Or, at least, the spirit of one lazily floating towards the tunnel, a leaf carried by a gentle stream. She recognized it as one of the worthless Berserker warriors who couldn’t even manage to guard her against a deranged mud-man. 

The space around the soul seemed to compress as invisible fingers clenched around the sprite. So close to the afterlife promised after thousands of years, the sprite’s expression went through a rapid series of changes. First contentedness to shock, then shock to pain, and pain to the grief of release denied so close.

“Nevermind your discomfort, you worthless sprite,” Opal boomed, her voice coming from every corner of the space. “Answer my questions and you may yet serve me.”

“Anything!” the struggling spirit cried. Its features began to contort, its essence being drawn towards the light, yet Opal’s grip was absolute.

“Where does the light lead?”

“The after,” the sprite gasped.

“The after, _ Queen Koboi _ ,” the pixie ordered. Her grip tightened, threatening to destroy the berserker’s soul altogether.

“Queen Koboi!” the sprite desperately squeaked.

The afterlife. Of course, Opal already figured out that part. Tunnel of light in an endless void of space? How absurdly cliché. When she was done with it, it would be much less pedestrian. Perhaps her face would be the first thing that greeted those who had died. It would be much easier to convince them that she was God were that the case.

Now for the sprite. Opal could see the poor creature splitting like an amoeba, threatening to tear asunder. What would happen then? Perhaps she could use whatever spilled out to bolster her own essence. It never hurt to advantage herself further. A plan was forming in her head. The queen of the world? No, the afterlife and  _ then _ the world. Maybe—

Opal suddenly felt her body wracked by pain. Blinding, burning pain. Can’t breathe. Was the air plasma?

Wait, there  _ was _ no body, no air. Only her mind. She sharpened her thoughts, reconstituting herself while considering what she had been attacked by. It must have been magic. But somebody with a stronger will than herself? Impossible.

She swung around to face the light, her metaphysical conception of “eyes” regrowing in imaginary sockets. The tunnel was now a blazing orb, more brilliant than the sun. If it were real it would have seared her flesh to plasma, much less her eyes. But it wasn’t and so Opal forced her eyes to focus on what was before her. 

The released sprite rushed forward, a word of gratitude at his lips. 

“Worry not, Vertunt, no one shall stand before the Berserkers and their well-deserved rest,” a voice said, warm and assuring.

The soul touched the white corona and was gone. A wizened figure watched it fondly. The elven silhouette stood between the pixie and the after and turned to face the pixie. Opal recognized the rough-hewn features at once.

“Bruin Fadda,” she hissed. “Step aside.”

The warlock remained impassive, staring at her. There was contempt in his eyes. And pity. Pity? PITY?

**HOW DARE HE?!**

Uttering a guttural cry completely unsuited for Opal’s delicate features, she fired a bolt of pure black magic at the warlock. It crackled all through her conceptual arm, blasting it to atoms, before shooting at the fairy like a blackened javelin. 

Bruin backhanded the bolt without looking at it, sending it careening off into the abyss.

Opal suddenly felt very drained. Heavy, just like before. Her stump of an arm refused to reconstitute. She had to convince him, before the clouds overtook her vision.

“Warlock Bruin Fadda,” she gasped, “wait. I must pass so that I may help rid Duma of the mud-men. Isn’t that what you want?”

The warlock stared at the megalomaniacal pixie’s form. It was slowly losing cohesion as her focus slipped, melting like mist in the noonday sun. He shook his head in disgust.

“You are no Shayden Fruid. He could at least wound me. You are right that I despise the mud-men, child, but the second lock has been closed forever. And even if it were not, Oro has shown me what he has seen. And now I lay my eyes on you myself.”

He sighed. At her.  _ HER. Opal Koboi. _ Some of the hatred she was reserving for Artemis Fowl was redirected towards the figure before her.  _ The absolute melodramatic prick. I will have him flogged for the rest of _ —

“Enough,” he spoke, his one word rippling through the pixie’s mind like a mesmer. Opal paused. She couldn’t even think. Only hear and see. The portal behind the warlock dimmed in intensity and began to smoothly contract. He sighed. 

“Your thoughts of hatred and revenge are unsightly. You are unfit to be queen of all or any. No ruler are you, no Frond are you, and no God can you be.”

Opal’s eyes widened, the whites showing. It was all she could manage. But Bruin Fadda seemed to be able to read deeper into the gesture. 

“You believe that I am denying your capabilities because you are a woman?” he asked, sounding curious. “Truly, have even the People lost their way?”

Opal flushed, denial rushing up to her uncooperative mouth. She wanted to take his pity and ram it down one of his eye sockets. Then suddenly the space around them shifted, as if they were standing on glass above the Berserker Gate. Back on Fowl Manor.

Opal’s eyes narrowed. She saw a cluster of figures. Worse, they were  _ alive _ . The two odious mud-men and the zoophilic elf police officer. Her vision filled with them and she wished she could vaporize them with her gaze itself. Yet she could not, and her attention was suddenly torn, no,  _ compelled _ by the warlock, his voice thrumming with magic.

“Opal Koboi, false queen of the People and master of dust, I pronounce justice upon you in the olden ways,” Bruin Fadda intoned. Opal fumed at his  _ ridiculous _ grandstanding. “For what you have taken and the blasphemy you have created, I punish you. However, Opal Koboi, for your deed of closing the gate, an act of compassion and prudence, this too shall not go unrewarded.”

At this point, if Opal was more than a seething wisp of hatred and narcissism held together by her prodigious intellect, she would have started to worry. Below her, the view shifted from Butler and Holly desperately resuscitating Artemis to a limp figure. A pixie, small and forgotten on the carnage of the battlefield.

“You shall find no rest in the after, for your heart is impure. Yet you shall live anew. I strip you of life and achievement, of enmity and memory. Serve the rest of your life once more, in the guise of discarded, dreamless flesh.”

Completing the incantation, Opal was banished. Bruin Fadda watched as the spirit was sucked into the body below, twitching and healing with a sudden influx of black magic. Satisfied with his final grand working, and so very tired, the warlock turned. The light enveloped him.

His work was finally done.

—

Far below, in the perfectly manicured grass of the Fowl estate, a clone heaved its first unassisted breath. Nopal opened her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Butler and Holly sprang into action, perfectly in sync. The two soldiers had been fighting on the same side for long enough that no words needed to be shared. Holly burst off in a sprint, one soft hazel eye and one piercing blue one desperately searching. She had to find her eye.  _ Artemis’s _ eye.

_ There _ . The orb lay in a pool of blood. Bits of grass and dirt marred its surface, and Holly could even make out where the nerve had been cut. The eye was glowing slightly green as the magic faded from it.

Had she been more calm, the elf would have whistled. It was a clean cut. As it were, she simply dove and snatched it from the ground. Carefully. She could  _ not _ crush it.

Holly held it close to her body, at once turning back towards Butler and fumbling with her belt. A hydroshell. As she made her way back to the bodyguard performing first-aid, she popped the cap, spraying down the soiled eye.

Julius taught her that trick. 

Butler had meanwhile checked Artemis’s pulse. Weak and uneven. His charge felt even clammier than usual. Definitely shock. He looked at Holly rushing back to Artemis’s side, his gaze one of a man adrift spotting a ship. Fairy magic was the only hope.

Holly didn’t miss a beat, sliding on her knees over the slick morning dew of the Fowl lawn. Butler held the boy’s head up, tilting it so that the elf had full access. Holly pulled the relatively clean eye out and deliberately jammed it back into the socket. The captain had to trust that her magic would reconnect the nerve.

Butler and Holly both spoke at the same time.

“ _ Heal _ .”

At first, nothing happened. Butler swallowed. Was Holly out of magic? The elf in question gritted her teeth and turned her chin until she heard a  _ click _ .

Then it happened all at once.

Blue sparks burst out of her hands, sinking deep into Artemis’s chest. The sparks ran up his body, surfing up-and-down like miniature sea serpents before finding his left eye and forming a small dynamo of magic. The spinning corona of blue sparks swept up Artemis’s hazel eye, righting it and reconnecting the nerve, before sinking it deep into the socket. The rest of the sparks restored lost blood, cushioned his nervous system, and mended various cuts and bruises that the day had left him with. 

Holly and Butler watched anxiously as the magic played out its whims, and finally stopped altogether. Holly felt drained. Butler thought his heart would hammer its way out of his chest. Neither dared to breathe.

For a silent, terrible moment, Artemis stopped breathing.

Then, his autonomous nervous system reasserted control. Artemis’s eyes fluttered open as his heart restarted and his brain reconnected his eye. He took a deep shuddering breath.

And immediately had the wind knocked out of him as Holly slammed into him with a bone-crushing hug.

“Holly—” he began.

He was cut off as Holly leaned down and kissed him fiercely. Blue sparks erupted at the contact as the elf mashed her lips against him like her life depended on it. Teeth and lips clacked, what few cuts were opened soon were attended to by blue sparks.

Artemis’s mind, jumbled as it was by the healing and shock, could still perceive this clearly enough. The hot, salty tears he felt spilling off from Holly’s face. The scent of her hair. Grass and citrus. There was something else, something  _ more _ , something sweeter, mixed in but all he couldn’t quite make it all out. He was too focused on her taste. He relaxed, deciding this was exactly where he wanted to be.

_ I almost died. But I did it. I saved every single person on the planet _ .

With that realization, Artemis leaned into the kiss, pushing back at Holly with equal ferocity. For what seemed like an eternity, the two were locked together, neither wanting to stop and end the moment. 

But like any land-dwelling creature that has dived into the water knows, one must come up to breathe eventually. Which they did, breaking apart. A set of exhilarated blue-and-brown eyes met a matching set of puffy, relieved ones.

They were interrupted as the two were suddenly swept into a bone-crushing hug. Butler’s professional courtesy could only extend so far. The lovebirds could have their kiss, but at that moment, there was no force on the planet that could prevent Butler from hugging Artemis. And hug him he did.

Artemis felt his breath driven out of him twice in as many moments. It came out as a wheezing chuckle. Most undignified. 

The genius was refreshed to find that he didn’t quite care. He caught his breath, and then started to laugh. Not his vampire chuckle meant to unsettle, or even his cultured aristocratic laugh, meant to impress. This was a full-throated laugh that went down to his belly. Full of joy.

The joy of being alive.

The others joined him. The trio, who had faced down insane faeries, goblins, trolls, and all manner of criminals and had managed to come out victorious, filled the hills with the peals of laughter. Eventually, the mirth and gales subsided. The bodyguard put the two down, and Artemis had returned somewhat to normalcy.

“You know Captain Short,” he quipped, “we  _ must _ stop kissing only on occasions where I have narrowly outwitted my imminent doom.”

Holly rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder. Lightly.

“Then stop trying to get yourself killed, mud-boy,” she said. “You’ll have more opportunities for elf-kissing if you keep your nose out of trouble from now on.”

“So I can count on you at any time then?” Artemis asked, tone smug. “After all, I have only been known to be in a state of grave danger and the interim as I prepare for the next danger.”

Holly  _ tsked _ and grabbed Artemis by his tie. She dragged him down to her eye-level.

“Well,” she said, her voice slightly husky, “I like the sound of any time.”

Butler politely cleared his throat. He looked mildly pained, and for more reasons than his heart.

“I would much prefer it if you simply kept him out of trouble, Holly. I don’t think my heart can take another adventure like this.”

Immediately both of the flirting offenders sobered up. In Artemis’s case it was a considerable sobering up. Butler had almost died so that they could stand here. How many times was it now? Too many times by far.

“No, old friend. I believe I’m done,” Artemis said, meaning every word of it. “No more adventures.”

Butler’s massive frame sagged in relief. He had heard his charge say something to that effect more than once, but this time Butler believed it. 

Then Butler noticed something from his vantage point above Holly and Artemis’s heads. A small figure sat bolt upright in front of the Berserker Gate. The massive Eurasian man stiffened.

“Artemis,” he said, ripping his principal out of his imminent realization that he had just flirted  _ aggressively  _ with the beautiful elf in front of him, “who’s that over there?”

Butler’s tight voice had Artemis concerned. The massive bodyguard himself couldn’t place what was causing him concern, but he could feel his instincts screaming at him. Holly looked in the same direction slowly—as much as tearing her gaze from Artemis was the opposite of what she wanted at the moment—and wasn’t quite on the same page as Butler. But she felt  _ something _ .

“Who  _ is _ that?” Artemis asked, eyes squinting. “I can’t quite make anything out.”

“That’s probably because I just put back one of your eyes with magic,” Holly said. “Be patient, Arty, magical surgeries take time.”

She cracked a grin, not being able to resist another jab at the mud-boy who worried her to death.

“Also the eye is lazy, so you might want to do something about that, mud-boy.”

The elf chuckled to herself as she saw Artemis frantically pat himself down for a mirror, which Butler, not taking his eyes off the small figure, obligingly produced for him. His eye was perfect, and oh-so-wonderful to gaze into, but she couldn’t resist teasing his well-groomed behind just a little bit. It took the edge off.

Holly returned her attention to the situation at hand. 

“Whoever that is, they’re small. Maybe it’s Beckett or Juliet?”

Butler immediately looked down in concern.

“Beckett? Juliet? Are they alright? The magic didn’t—”

“Definitely not, big man,” said Holly, wishing she had her LEP helmet so she could see exactly who the mystery figure was. “They’re human through-and-through. The only reason that Artemis was in danger—”

“Holly, it is  _ not _ your fault,” Artemis interrupted, a slight bit more forcefully than strictly necessary. He swallowed, correcting himself. 

“I rather enjoy the eye. If you wish to take any responsibility, and, as I will remind you, you oughtn’t to as I had essentially  _ stolen _ the eye. But if you insist, then content yourself with the reason I hesitated so much at the threshold: I am fond of this eye. It reminds me of you, so I was rather hesitant to part with it. And I suspected you would be able to reattach it, so I would not be losing it permanently.”

If one were to look in the early dawn light, they would be able to make out Holly Short, arguably the toughest LEPrecon captain, blushing up to the tips of her pointy ears. She coughed, trying to cover up her fluster.

“Sure, Fowl. But make sure the pretty eye you got from me isn’t crooked.”

“Now that is patently—”

Their gentle bickering was interrupted by a sudden keening wail. It was unearthly, unable to be produced by any creature on the Earth and very few beneath it. It started high, then grew unbearably loud, a jagged cry ripping through the air.

Butler and Artemis both felt goosebumps rise over their whole bodies. The humans both heard it. A funeral dirge. The cry of a banshee. While they clamped their hands over their ears in an attempt to escape that  _ noise _ , Holly stood there dumbly.

Artemis, wincing at the continued scream, caught Holly’s gaze. It was filled with undisguised pity and grief. The elf stared back at Artemis, their mismatched gazes locking.

“It’s just so… sad,” the elf said.

And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The figure fell. Artemis’s vision had decided at this moment to return to its normal 20/20. He caught sight of who it was. He almost wished he hadn’t.

It was Opal Koboi.


	4. Chapter 4

Opal Koboi, to grossly simplify it, tended to complicate things. Thus it was a rather pleasant surprise when all that was needed to restrain the pixie-genius was a a scrounged-up straitjacket from Fowl Manor. 

Holly and Artemis were sitting in the crashed Silver Cupid. While one always ought to be cautious about holding the megalomaniacal pixie in any shuttle, even a crashed one, it was better here than in the house. Additionally, the less time Butler had to be in direct contact with her limp figure, all the better.

Artemis watched Opal’s clone as she slept fitfully on a lowered seat. She was breathing much easier than before. When Butler had first carefully approached her, she seemed to be struggling to even draw breath. It settled sometime before Butler retrieved the straitjacket and wrapped the pixie in it. Artemis guessed that it had something to do with the soul getting used to the new body.

“Arty, why do you have a straitjacket?” Holly asked, breaking into his thoughts. 

“There seems to be something of a trend when it comes to insanity in my household,” Artemis said. “I find that it pays to be prepared.”

Holly cocked her head.

“Are you... expecting something to happen?” 

Artemis gave Holly one of his classic vampire grins.

“You’ll notice that the jacket is sized for Myles and Beckett,” he admitted. “I fear that one day they will drive me to the brink, so preventative measures are necessary.”

Holly nodded sagely, reaching over to pinch Artemis’s arm.

“Are you sure about that, mud-boy?” she teased, running her hand down a bony arm like she wasn’t just feeling him up. “Butler won’t help you wrestle them forever. Do you actually think you can handle two five-year-olds?”

Artemis considered this.

“Myles perhaps. Beckett, no,” he said seriously.

Holly snorted, and the two sat in companionable silence. The elf scooted in the chair, edging slightly into his space. Rubbing elbows. Scandalous. Artemis quirked an eyebrow, while the LEP captain met his gaze defiantly.

“You know, Opal seems to be executing the plan that  _ I _ had in mind,” he said, trying to steer the conversation somewhere safe. 

Holly unconsciously brought a hand to her forehead. Artemis had planted a kiss there, but considering the circumstances, she couldn’t quite enjoy it at the time. 

“Right,” she said, slightly confused, “what was I supposed to do? Kiss Foaly?”

“No, the kiss was to ensure you had my DNA on your person. Though now that I think about it, the plan would have been thrown in jeopardy had you simply taken a shower when you returned to the Lower Elements.”

Artemis shrugged. He had expected it to be a desperate last ditch plan anyways, and he didn’t have to act on it any longer, so he decided to file it away for refinement another time.

“Well, regardless, I expect Foaly would have been able to extract my DNA and produce a clone. From there, all I had to do was maintain my spirit for the prerequisite six months or so, as the Berserker Gate spell drew only fairy souls into the afterlife. But when I saw Oro brandishing that dagger around, I formulated an entirely new plan. As you can see, even if I had lost the eye entirely, it was still less of a gamble.”

Holly nodded, seriously.

“I do prefer you down an eye to dead,” she said. Then the elf frowned, adding, “Wait, do you mean the chrysalis that Opal used to break out of Argon’s? That definitely falls under the category of Koboi-touched. Right now it’s probably a pile of molten scrap isn’t it?”

Artemis stilled.

“Ah,” he said dumbly.

Holly said nothing, then hugged him again, wrapping her arms around his waist. She buried her face into his chest for a moment before extricating it out of embarrassment. There was to be no nuzzling of mud-man shirts. Yet.

She didn’t release him from her hug though, and Artemis appreciated the contact. He had, at this point, begun to shake uncontrollably.  _ Involuntary tremors, how quaint. _ At the very least, his first outright failure of a plan only had a hole poked in it after the life-or-death situation in question.

“Well, as selfless a martyr I could have been,” he said, recovering somewhat, “I’m glad that I came up with an alternate plan.”

“I’m glad too,” Holly hummed. Her grip around Artemis tightened, but he found that he didn’t mind at all.

At that moment, Butler returned, ducking his head through the shuttle door. Even though the  _ Silver Cupid _ was built for human heights, which meant that it was positively giant by fairy standards, he was glad he didn’t have to be in here for long. The manservant was a professional, but nothing struck dread into him so consistently like the thought of sitting in a shuttle for hours on end. They simply did not make these things in Butler-size.

“Artemis, I’m back. Mulch told me to pass you on his farewells.”

Holly jumped back on instinct, causing Artemis to instantly miss being in her arms. On her part, the captain flushed upon realizing that she was acting like a teenager whose mom had walked in on her. For Artemis, he didn’t mind that Mulch had left terribly much. He had a troll, he’d be fine.

“Welcome back,” greeted Artemis warmly, “I trust Juliet and my brothers are healthy?”

“As healthy as can be expected,” Butler agreed. “I do think that they are taking the jet to London as soon as possible, however. But if anyone can keep your family safe, it will be Juliet.”

Artemis nodded. Given the circumstances, he had to ensure that his parents were protected. Additionally, he didn’t want his brothers anywhere near Opal. If she woke up and began firing magic bolts again, Artemis did not intend on giving her anyone she could use as a hostage.

Truth be told, he did not intend to allow her to do much at all.

—

She had been floating, but that was a long time ago. Where was she now? Stuck. The walls felt close. It was… glass? She didn’t quite know. She supposed she wasn’t supposed to know. Or to suppose anything. This was all quite new.

Then she instinctually knew where she was: the chrysalis. She was born there and had spent a long time there. She didn’t know if it was comfortable, but it was familiar. Odd. Before, she had never really wondered if there was something outside the glass. But now there was a desire. Could she open the door?

She struggled to lift a hand. A finger. She could not. She was so  _ weak _ . She blinked a milky eye. The scene changed.

Now where was she? She could hear two pixies talking. They had the same voice. Twins? The Brill brothers, her mind helpfully supplied, though she thought that she had never met either of them before.

She was much less comfortable where she was now. It was dark and smelled of cleaning chemicals. Also it was a little wet. Normally she sat in a mildly humid and comfortably warm booth since her body was wholly incapable of regulating body-temperature on top of the arduous task of maintaining organ functionality. One or the other.

Suddenly, light assaulted her senses. Or rather just her sight. Her pupils dilated and she saw two pairs of diminutive hands reach out for her. Their fingers on her delicate skin felt like little syringes jabbing into her. She wished they didn’t handle her so roughly.

Were they taking her somewhere? She felt very precarious, and she hoped that the Brill brothers wouldn’t drop her. She had the impression that if they did, she would shatter like a glass ballerina doll. Hm. What was a ballerina?

She saw herself being unhooked from many wires and sensors. She looked quite upset, so it probably wasn’t a reflection. A reflection didn’t look quite so condescending. No, her name is—was Opal. Was that her name then? Were they twins like these two pixies? 

They hooked her up where Opal had been. She couldn’t move again. Not that she wanted to. Then a squat psychologist rushed in and jammed something into her mouth.  _ Now  _ she wanted to move. But she couldn’t. Trapped again.

Her name wasn’t Opal.

One more. She was behind glass again. But there were gloves for someone to reach in and touch her. None for the other way around, but nobody expected that she wanted to explore the outside world with her fingers too. Maybe for the best. It seemed all she was doomed to feel was pain.

She felt a hand on her brow, waking her from a dreamless sleep. They were gentle. Soft. Or maybe that was the rubber in the glove. But they were warm fingers, ones that didn’t jostle her nor stab needles into her veins. She wanted to nuzzle her forehead against the fingers, greedy to get more of this touch. 

But she couldn’t, so she was content to simply sit in the incubator. The hand had a name. Holly. She had a last name too, but “Holly” was what she heard the elf being called by the other one. A human, very pale and gaunt, sometimes sick but very smart. He didn’t touch her but that was fine. He played with her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Arty showed up. That was what Holly called him. Arty and Holly. Easy to remember. They called her something too. Nopal. It was her name. She thought it was pretty.

Arty drummed his fingers against the glass. Slowly at first, but building up. It was catchy, or at least Nopal thought so. It was her only experience with music after all. It seemed to free her somewhat. She tried to touch his hand, forgetting the glass which separated them for a moment. The hard glass bumped against her, denying her access to the outside. It hurt.

Nevertheless, Nopal was determined. The rhythm was fun to match, too. She tapped it out, clumsily trying to follow Arty’s lead. She saw the two outside smile. Nopal would have smiled too, but she was too focused. If her pores worked right, she would have been sweating from the exertion. 

If she didn’t play right, Arty would leave. And if he left, so would Holly. She had nobody else. 

Finally, in an act that had her shuddering in exhaustion, her hand slapped the glass one final time. Except now it was smooth stone, a glowing green light. Lots of green lights and good smells resulted. How pretty.

Then she felt a bolt of electricity blow into her chest and send her tumbling down a hill. It hurt a lot, but that was okay.

She had been in pain since she was born.

More importantly, everything was better! There was an awful mask on her face at first, but now she could see and smell everything! It was all so novel. The jabs of the hundreds of blades of grass digging into her bare skin tickled. The smell of the air here on the surface was sweet. The refreshing coolness of the dew against her neck made her shiver.

Nopal’s neck lolled, staring up at the night sky slowly turning to dawn. Green magic shimmered between her and the stars. What an obstacle. In the early Irish morning, Nopal felt that she could reach out and pluck the beautiful motes of light for herself. Maybe she’d give some of them to Arty and Holly.

Nopal watched Arty run past. Off somewhere. She wished she could chase him. A smile wormed its way to her mouth.

She was dying. Regrettably, she didn’t spend that much time with Holly or Arty. She wished she could. It was fine if she didn’t, though. After all, this relative freedom she had—as limited as it was to her rolling down a hill and lying there—was enough, really. 

Nopal closed her eyes. The wind howled. It took all the strength she had left to wiggle her fingers in the grass. To feel them one last time.

It was nice.


	5. Chapter 5

Artemis seemed determined to turn the inside of the shuttle into a maximum security prison. Sheets of camfoil hung from the roof of the shuttle, hiding Artemis, Holly, and Butler from view. All present wore mirrored lenses of one form or another to prevent being mesmerized. Butler in particular had some unobtrusive mirrored contacts. The manservant was hidden just outside the doorway of the shuttle, the camfoil making the man-mountain appear to be an open doorway leading to freedom. He had his Sig Sauer out and was calmly aiming at Nopal. If she made so much as a single suspicious movement, he would shoot. To kill.

As for Artemis and Holly, the two were sitting within the shuttle, hidden behind a curtain of camfoil. They both had LEP helmets on, Holly because it made her feel comfortable and Artemis because he had a couple balls in the air to juggle, so to speak.

He had jury-rigged the helmet to link up to several devices both inside and outside of the shuttle. There was a small camera, with shield-filtering of course, watching Butler’s back to ensure that nothing snuck up on his bodyguard, fairy or otherwise. The floor around Opal had a pressure-based alarm that Artemis had hidden as well as a thermal camera mounted inconspicuously on the roof should the pixie somehow shield and slip her bonds. Her vital signs were being monitored by a bug planted on the back of her neck. Finally, hidden beneath the plush gel-seat was a shaped charge that Artemis could activate with the right gesture.

Holly, typically averse to killing, had balked slightly when Artemis had described the precautions. However, she had nonetheless accepted a Neutrino—working, thankfully—from the Fowl armory and was currently drumming a tattoo into the grip. The LEP captain couldn’t even find it in herself to even rib Artemis for his paranoia.

When it came to Opal Koboi, there was no such thing as  _ too _ paranoid. 

“So,” Holly began, her voice crackling over the helmet’s radio, “I don’t suppose that you still have that concrete prison cell anymore?”

Butler heard through an earpiece, but he couldn’t exactly break in.  _ Sorry, big man, _ Holly had informed him, digging out some LEP helmets,  _ but they don’t size these things for trolls _ . The professional in him would have preferred radio silence, but he trusted Artemis and Holly to be paying attention. Their chatter would be contained within their helmets anyways.

Artemis winced at the mention of Holly’s original kidnapping, taking his eyes off the various feeds he was scanning. There was some awkward silence as her fumbling genius friend searched for words.

“Ah, that,” he said. “The kidnapping room.”

“That’s the one, mud-boy. I’m just saying that when Koboi wakes up we’ll have to keep her somewhere. She needs to face trial.”

There was another pause as Opal shifted slightly in her sleep, groaning, but didn’t appear to wake. Artemis suspected that she  _ was _ awake nevertheless. The objective of being hidden was to draw out any hidden contingencies that Opal may have had as well as gauging her capabilities in her current state. It was the best they could do with present circumstances and more than enough for any normal straitjacketed fairy, but Artemis had his doubts. For all he knew, she had been awake the whole time and was simply biding her time. It was, after all, what he would do.

But Artemis had equally important things to think about. Like Holly.

“Holly,” he blurted out. 

She looked at him curiously. Her mismatched eyes brushed over Artemis and he felt a shiver. They hadn’t even had another quiet moment after this whole debacle. Not two hours after Bruin Fadda’s millenia old magic had nearly ripped the soul from his body and here he was, on the knife’s edge once again. Perhaps he was still giddy from the healing and potentially about to face off with the most dangerous pixie in the world again, but he simply had to let Holly know.

Artemis shuddered.  _ Sharing his feelings _ . Really, what was the world coming to?

“The room. It’s gone, you see.”

Butler, despite himself and the situation, cracked a grin. Artemis may be a genius and a mastermind, but a casanova he was certainly not.

“Um… good?” Holly tried.

“Holly, you know I care about you deeply, correct?”

The elf nodded, unsure as to where this was all going. She said nothing though, trusting that Arty indeed  _ was _ going somewhere with all this.

“Right, well given that,” Artemis said, valiantly plowing on, “I also very much like your company. The six months I spent in Haven with you never more than a communicator beep away has spoiled me somewhat, and I tend to not be an easy person to spoil. But even before, anytime I received a visit from you, business or otherwise, I was elated. But I just couldn't stomach the thought that you were visiting somebody who had kidnapped you all those years ago and you were treating him so undeservedly  _ well. _ ”

“Arty…”

“I had the room destroyed. I want you to be able to be in my home without any reminders. I don’t want there to be any obstacles for when you come visit. I wish to see you as often as I physically can. And suppose you were to spend a lot of time in the manor, it would only be right—”

Butler really, _ really _ wished he could shut off his earpiece. He was familiar to some degree with Artemis’s feelings courtesy of just how long he had been with his charge, but the gushing was certainly new. He shook his head ruefully. Young love.

“Frond, stop, Arty!” she hissed, a note of pleading in her tone for the human to stop before she nearly died of embarrassment. “Are you inviting me to come up and live with you or something? I’m flattered, but  _ Arty _ . There are steps for these things, you know?”

“Ah, well, I just supposed….” Artemis said, deflating. He felt like all the blood in his body had rushed to his face in the past several seconds. It suddenly became hot enough inside his helmet that he wanted to open his visor.

Holly caught his look and snorted. He must have been the dumbest genius she knew. And she knew  _ four _ .

The elf snaked her arm down, and grabbed Artemis’s hand. She squeezed it reassuringly. Artemis stared at their intertwined fingers with something like amazement. Gods, sometimes he did act his age.

“I forgive you, Arty,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on Opal. “But you get a reward because you’re being unusually considerate. And honest. It’s actually pretty unfair when you do that.”

Artemis's ego rebounded with impressive quickness. It was incredible what having a elf’s hands in yours did for confidence. He straightened up.

“ _ Holly _ ,” he chided, tone mock-offended. “Artemis Fowl does not play _ fair _ .”

The captain in question did not have time to roll her eyes before she heard a small beeping from Artemis’s radio. Her mouth hardened into a grim line. One more tangle with Opal Koboi. Even with the odds so decisively stacked against her, it never paid to underestimate the pixie. She was much like Artems in that way.

Holly pulled her Neutrino out of her holster, flicking it on. She knew that Artemis had little intention of allowing Opal to leave the shuttle alive. Probably claim it was some sort of “accident”. The elf wasn’t an idiot. But she knew Artemis was also just lying to spare her the culpability.

Opal killed Julius. If the pixie died here, maybe she’d look the other way.

—

Nopal’s eyes fluttered open. She was no longer under the early morning sky, but that made sense. She had probably fallen asleep. 

Hm.  _ I was under the impression that you don’t wake up when you die, _ she thought to herself. Evidently not, then. Good to know. 

She wanted to stretch her arms but found they were trapped in some fairly rough sleeves. It was a little itchy against her skin, but at least they were warm. Was this what people called an itchy blanket?

The pixie blinked as light poured into wherever she was. It might have been a shuttle? All she really knew was that she was lying down on something fairly plush and that she had never seen the sun before in all its glory. And it certainly was glorious.

The sun’s rays poured in through the shuttle’s open doors. It was warm on her face. She basked in it for a while. Sure, fairies are supposed to be nocturnal, but who wouldn’t enjoy the sun on their upturned face for the first time? Certainly not her. 

Nopal smiled, the brilliance of it briefly outshining the sun. But having such a beatific expression on one's face for so long was tiring, so she dropped it and frowned. Nopal then experienced the old adage firsthand that it did indeed take more muscles to frown than to smile. This was especially true for pixies, whose faces were the focal point of their body and actually contained around 120 muscles compared to a human’s measly 43. She smoothed her face back into a neutral expression.

At this point, Nopal was solidly convinced that she was alive. All of the things that she could feel—a gentle breeze, the warm sunshine, an itch in her forearm, the view of the inside of the shuttle, and the soft give of the gel behind her back—were completely new and beautiful in their novelty. But other things were less pleasant.

Nopal was incredibly thirsty and hungry. It took her awhile to sort these emotions out, as even before she had never experienced those things. Or at least not a physical hunger. Also she had to use the bathroom. Desperately. She didn’t know why, but she figured that if she wet her pants at that moment it would be very embarrassing. 

She tried banishing these things by thinking really hard that they didn’t exist. She stared at a singular point on the roof of the shuttle and tried to will her bodily functions out of existence. No such luck. The harder she focused, the more she thought about them and the more that her biological processes refused to be silenced. Being trapped sucked. She needed a new plan.

After several moments, she had it.

She could  _ talk _ .

Or more specifically call for help. But who could she call for help from? She was from nowhere and had nobody. Ah, but she did have  _ somebody _ . Plural somebodies.

Nopal opened her mouth. It would not be accurate to describe her voice as rusty from disuse. In fact, her voice had never been used before in the entirety of her life, which had to be nearly four years at this point. She was about to say her first words. And they came out like this:

“Ah-eee. Ah-eee.”

Incomprehensible, even to Nopal herself. She worked her jaw and willed her tongue to move correctly. Theoretically, the pixie-genius knew how it worked, but as Artemis often was reminded, the mind is willing, but the flesh is weak. She uselessly moaned the two syllables for several seconds before she stopped drooling and speaking essentially baby-talk.

“Holly,” she called, surprisingly comprehensible. “Arty. Holly. Arty.”

Nopal smiled to herself—not too hard of course, speaking was  _ difficult _ after all, and she hadn’t enough strength for too much facial movement. Anyways, hopefully Holly and Arty would come and help. And if they didn’t she’d just have to keep at it.


	6. Chapter 6

Artemis was nearly at wits’ end. And when you considered his wits, that was a far distance to push indeed. His problem was that he was in charge of developing countermeasures for whatever Opal Koboi had left in her quiver. 

The problem with _that_ was that he had no idea what Opal was doing.

When the pixie first woke up, Artemis had expected some degree of struggling. Possibly shouting. He was hopeful that there would be enough of a disturbance that he would simply be “forced” to set off the charge. That or Butler would shoot her first.

Generally, Artemis was not a murderer, much less one who would do so in cold blood. However, Opal Koboi continued to be the exception to the rule. The pixie had almost killed every human on the surface of the planet. She had destroyed so much infrastructure it would take humans decades to dig back its way out of the technological hole it was in. She had possessed Juliet. She almost caused Butler’s baby sister to  _ murder him. She had touched his brothers. _

No, Artemis was no cold-blooded murderer, but he was understandably piqued at the small figure snoozing on the gel seats. It’s just that unlike most teenagers should they be unfortunate enough to be in his situation, he wasn’t going to throw a tantrum. No, Artemis Fowl managed his emotions so that they didn’t interfere with his plans.

Still, that didn’t mean he wasn't  _ absolutely livid. _

Instead of playing along with Artemis’s fantasies and raging before being summarily chunked into thousands of pieces, Opal did nothing. No schemes, no magic, no struggling. Just a glassy-eyed stare at her surroundings and some mild shuffling under her straitjacket.

Then she smiled. On one hand, it was one of the most angelic things that he had ever seen. On the other hand, it was Opal Koboi and so it chilled him to his core. If she was happy, then that generally meant somebody across the chessboard from her was going to be very unhappy. At the moment, she was playing against the  _ entire human race. _

Right afterward, she schooled her features until they were incredibly neutral. Artemis couldn’t read the expression. Artemis found out why when the pixie snapped her gaze directly above her, right to where the hidden thermal camera was.

_ Impossible _ , he thought.  _ That’s camouflaged. _

Did she know?  _ How _ did she know? Should he activate the charge now and damn the consequences? Or was this all somehow going according to plan? Artemis, a bead of sweat appearing on his brow, checked his various helmet-feeds. The camera watching Butler’s sizable back, clear. Thermal camera, clear. Biometrics, all baseline, if a little bit on the low-blood pressure side.

He felt a reassuring squeeze and he turned to Holly. She was looking at him, mismatched eyes full of concern. Artemis took a deep breath and resettled himself. It was fine. Opal is doing nothing. He met her eyes and nodded, mouthing that he was fine.

Then Opal started saying random syllables. No wait, only two. In a repeating pattern. 

_ Damn _ , Artemis thought, thrown right back into planning mode.  _ I didn’t sweep the shuttle for bugs! If she had managed to plant any in here then maybe she’s transmitting it somewhere. She’s activating something with those sounds, she  _ must _ be. But where? For what purpose?  _

He was seconds away from detonating the explosive charge before Holly broke into his runaway thoughts. 

“You know,” she mused, “what if Opal has brain damage?”

Artemis’s thoughts ground to a halt as he digested that statement. That was very possible. He had imagined that the separation of spirit and body would come at the cost of some memories, which may or may not return. He had consigned himself to that murky fate when he had first drugged Holly and ran off to get himself killed. If this is what happens to consciousness when the spirit is separated for all of two minutes, Artemis shuddered to imagine what would have become of him at the end of six months, or however long it took Foaly to grow an illegal clone.

Then, _ of course she can’t have bugs in the  _ Cupid _. They would have exploded and Foaly’s too paranoid. _

“That… could explain what we’re seeing,” Artemis said, trying not to think about what  _ he _ would have been like if it was his soul that had been ripped out and shoved into a clone.

Opal finally seemed to remember how to use her mouth. And then she started calling both of their names. Not just their names, but Artemis’s  _ pet name _ .

Even Butler’s brows rose in confusion.

“'Arty?'”

“Yes, Holly?”

The elf rolled her eyes, ignoring him.

“What in Frond’s name is happening right now?”

“I don’t know, but I’m uncertain how much water the brain damage theory holds now,” Artemis replied, lips compressing into a thin line. “She’s plotting  _ something _ and I intend to figure out exactly what it is.”

“Well you’d better hurry it up, because Opal calling out our names like that is grating _. _ ”

“I suspect that she knows that we’re here and is simply doing it to throw us off. Crude but effective psychological warfare.”

Holly looked irritated, particularly with how innocent Opal sounded. The pixie murderer was somehow setting off a repressed maternal instinct inside of her, and she did  _ not _ like it. Pixies may look adorable and innocent, but Opal had never been accused of either of those things.

“I’m not sure what we can glean from this,” Artemis admitted finally. “At the very least, I suspect that she will not be attempting an escape plot while we’re actively watching.”

“I’m about to lose my patience here.”

“Now there’s a surprise.”

“Shut up, mud-boy,” she quipped, pulling her Neutrino smoothly out of its holster. “How about we interrogate her? You’ve got her vitals, so we can tell if she’s lying or not.”

“Absolutely not,” Artemis vetoed. “We shouldn’t risk any unnecessary contact until we’re absolutely certain.”

“Certain of what, Arty? It’s Opal. If she’s got a plan, she’s gonna monologue about it.”

“I don’t want you to be in any danger, Holly,” the boy said pensively.

“I appreciate the concern,” the captain said, smiling, “but let’s face it. This is what I’m good at. Just magic, guts, and a scary gun.”

Artemis made an ineffectual mewling sound that may have contained protest. Butler nearly removed the earpiece in disbelief. He didn’t even know his charge could even make those noises.

Holly rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She decided to throw Artemis a bone.

“Look, my gut’s telling me this is how we proceed,” she said, regretfully extricating her hand from Artemis’s. “And my gut’s never wrong. It’s why I’m here with you, after all.”

Artemis made a sound that could have been a cough or squeal. Despite Holly’s cheap tactics, he could see the logic in her arguments. If Opal was already calling out to the two of them, then they had little incentive to continue hiding and more to gain by half-revealing their hand.

Of course, Opal would probably figure where Holly was, Artemis would be close by. But there was the possibility Opal had assumed that he had died. Still, he was incredibly unhappy with Holly acting as bait, but he had to trust she could handle herself.

“Very well, captain,” sighed Artemis, fighting down a blush, “do be careful.”

“When am I not?” she asked, fading from the visibility.

Butler snorted. Artemis was too well-bred to do the same, but the cocked eyebrow meant much the same thing.

Holly, shielded, cautiously approaching the restrained pixie. The clone was still mewling her name every so often, as if that hadn’t been annoying the first dozen times she had done it. Holly stepped carefully around the camfoil, finding a good spot for when she unshielded. It wouldn’t be great if she was in Butler’s line of fire. From Opal’s point of view, it would appear that it was simply a fairy unshielding in an empty room. Hopefully this would lead her to believe that it was just Holly she was dealing with.

Opal always did have a tendency to see what she wanted to see.

The LEPrecon captain took a deep breath. Then she unshielded. Holly almost wanted to close her eyes in anticipation, but her training forced her to keep her eyes open. Whatever was going to happen, she needed to prepare for it.

However instead of the expected, like a torrent of abuse, surprise, or magical fireworks, Opal simply gave Holly a glassy stare. Then Nopal broke into the widest smile that Holly had ever seen on another fairy.

“Holly. You came.”

Holly was thrown off balance for a moment, and said nothing. Who was this pixie? She seemed like she had been waiting for Holly for centuries with perfect faith that the elf would come for her. And now that she had arrived, Nopal, for her part, seemed content to just look at Holly’s face. 

“Holly?  _ Holly _ ?” Artemis radioed, snapping Holly out of her consternation. “I believe she is either deranged or pretending. Actually, I retract my supposition on the former. Nevertheless, play along. Ask her some questions to establish a baseline.”

Holly rolled her eyes. She knew the drill. Nevertheless, she pressed a button to allow her voice to be heard through the helmet. It was generally something of a riot feature, functioning as a megaphone. Luckily she could turn the volume down so she wouldn’t deafen everyone in the shuttle. Blowing out Opal’s eardrums would be satisfying, but it was a little petty.

“Hey, do you mind if I ask you some questions?” Holly asked.

Nopal nodded, an earnest expression on her face.

“Is your name Opal Koboi?”

The pixie furrowed her brows. Was that her name?

“I don’t… think so,” she answered finally. Her voice was higher than Opal’s and had a strange lilting-quality to it. Nopal shook her head, more sure this time, “Nope.”

“That’s unusual,” Artemis said, in  _ that tone _ .

To Holly, when one of the geniuses— _ genii _ just in case Artemis was reading her mind—was about to deliver her bad news they’d say something like “hm, that’s weird” or “how unusual.” And they would always,  _ always _ deliver it in  _ that tone _ . She felt her pulse quicken.

“Arty,” she said, in  _ that tone _ . Artemis and Foaly knew it as  _ that tone that precedes Holly whalloping you if you don’t hurry and explain what’s so “unusual.” _

“Right. No change in heartbeat or signs of perspiration,” Artemis said, a tad hurriedly. “Perhaps she may be a better liar than we expected.”

“Opal Koboi, good at lying—stop the presses,” she muttered under her breath. Not that the fairies had used newspapers in centuries. Cutting down trees and printing ink on them for something you’d use once? Barbaric.

“Alright. What is your name, then?”

“My name is Nopal! You named me, I think.”

What? Artemis frowned. That would be a good strategy to convince them, not to mention get them off balance. Devious, but he expected no less from her. But still no reaction, at least physiologically.

“No change in vitals,” he reported dutifully. Holly didn’t seem to hear him.

“I did?” Holly paused for several seconds, unsure how to continue. “What else do you remember?”

Nopal thought about this.

“I remember,” she said seriously, “being in the chrysalis. Then the Brill brothers moved me in a janitor’s cart.”

Nopal’s expression was troubled as she began, an expression of sheer concentration. Recalling the early stages of her life was hard. She brightened visibly as she continued, though.

“After that I got put somewhere smaller with less wires. And I sat a lot. You visited me often, though. Thanks!”

Holly felt unsettled. Her instincts assured her that she wasn’t in danger, at least not immediately, but she was certainly in a novel situation. Face to face with Opal Koboi and not feeling rage and hatred. When was the last time that happened?

_ Oh right, before the whole B’wa Kell rebellion. I had thought that if I ever met Opal I’d congratulate her for rising in a male-dominated field. I thought we were kindred spirits. _

The thought made her shudder. But looking at the smiling face peering up at her, Holly couldn’t quite feel the same revulsion she felt not twelve hours earlier. 

“Holly,” Artemis said, “I have gotten no changes from her physiologically, yet I suspect she is nevertheless lying to us. I wouldn’t suppose you’ve gotten any luck from your angle?”

The captain thought about it for a moment. She wouldn’t expect for Opal to have any obvious tells, but if anything, the clone didn’t seem to be able to keep  _ anything _ off her face. There was the intensity to that gaze that she couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah, Arty,” she said, “I either can’t read a thing or I’m reading only what she wants me to read.”

Holly heard him sigh, unusually tired. Well, he had been awake for a while. Holly and Butler had their brief stints of unconsciousness, so they were relatively well rested compared to the genius. She’d bet that he even had a consistent sleep schedule, the spoiled brat.

“I didn’t expect so,” muttered Artemis. He wanted to take off his helmet and rub the bridge of his nose, but that was an unnecessary risk. They were silent as Artemis began thinking about alternatives for imprisoning Opal.  _ They’d have to move her into the manor _ , Artemis thought with a grimace.

“Hey,” Holly said, breaking into his thoughts. “Crazy idea.”

“Are you about to ask about the possibility that she is actually Nopal and we are not being played like second-rate instruments at a high-school band recital?”

Her silence was answer enough. Nevertheless, Artemis considered that  _ ridiculous _ idea. Where it anyone else, there was certainly a strong chance that the soul would simply become the driving anima for the clone and thus create an entirely different person. However, it was not anyone else. It was Opal Koboi. 

Meanwhile, Nopal was continuing her story, grabbing Holly’s attention. The way the clone spoke when telling a story became almost sing-songy. It was… endearing? Creepy?

“...then I got put into a titanium egg. I think I rode a surface flare, and so it was really,  _ really _ hot. I think I almost died, but it was over quickly. Then Arty put the mask on me and I couldn’t see much. But I played the game right, and then there were a ton of green lights and Opal shot me. Then I think I died. But now I’m here. Can I use the bathroom?”

Holly didn’t answer immediately.

“Arty, did you get all that?”

“Vitals are steady.”

“Arty…” she said warningly. She knew a Fowl evasion when she heard one, and this one wasn’t even particularly well done.

“Holly, I don’t know what you want me to say, really. There’s still a chance that those memories could have been absorbed by Opal as she claimed the clone’s body. This level of functionality could be explained by the short time that she was separated. Furthermore, the fact that this approach seems to be so effectively winning us gives me even more reason to be concerned.”

“Would Opal even be this good at acting?”

“She  _ did _ impersonate a nurse and mesmerize Dr. Schalke on the side. Though her imitation of my mother was lacking.”

“I remember that,” Holly conceded. She remembered being dunked into a barrel of animal fat by Butler and felt bile rise in the back of her throat at the memory. And they still had that damned thing! Well at least it had released a berserker.

“Holly, it appears you’re getting attached. We cannot allow sentiment here. We cannot be certain if this is the same clone that you and I looked over at the clinic.”

“Well at the very least can’t we try? We’re clearly not getting anything out of her here. If it is Nopal, then she’s done nothing wrong.”

“I believe by fairy law her existence is illegal,” Artemis countered. He didn’t mention the part of his resurrection plan that called for Holly and Foaly doing said illegal things.

Holly shot him a look, through the camfoil. Nopal watched as Holly was arguing with someone in her helmet. She couldn’t hear any of the words, but she assumed it was Arty. They seemed to do that a lot.

“At least let’s take care of her?” she asked in that tone that made Artemis’s demeanor start to crack. “We don’t get anything out of a clone soiling herself in a straitjacket. Trust me on this one, Arty, my gut says she’s no harm to anyone right now and I bet she hasn’t eaten or drank anything in… well, ever.”

“Can she even take solids right now?”

“Please?” asked Holly, delivering a pair of devastating puppy-dog eyes. Artemis felt his retort die on his lips.

“This is most unfair, captain Short.”

“Please, mud-boy,” she scoffed, “Holly Short doesn’t play fair.”

Nopal didn’t know what happened, but she felt like she was going to be alright. Hopefully Arty will show up soon.

—

Butler had heard all of these deliberations from outside. He didn’t find it strictly necessary to interject at any point, or at least so necessary that he had to break concealment. However, when he started hearing Holly and Artemis help the clone onto their feet, he shook off the camfoil. And  _ glowered _ .

He was  _ not _ happy with their decision.


	7. Chapter 7

Holly sat in one of Artemis’s many guest rooms. The bed was some incredibly high-count Egyptian-weave nightmare on a ridiculously soft mattress. The walls were covered in a pleasant beige wallpaper with some undoubtedly expensive paintings and tasteful wood paneling breaking up the monotony. 

The elf sat by the window on a stool, feeding Nopal some fruit. It was open, and a breeze came in, ruffling the gossamer inner curtains. Gods, Artemis had  _ two _ sets of curtains to a window.

Normally, Holly would be weary of sitting so close to a window, even somewhere as isolated as Fowl Manor. One clear picture and there was the risk the People’s cover would be blown wide-open. But right now? It’s not like the internet was up, and even if it was, the humans had more important things to deal with. 

All of that was courtesy of a pixie whom Holly was currently tormenting. Relatively speaking. She was holding a piece of watermelon, dangling it just out of the clone’s reach. Nopal was nipping at it. After struggling in vain for several more seconds, she collapsed, her neck muscles not accustomed to the strain.

“Holly,” she whined, panting slightly. “I want the watermelon.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” the elf relented. She popped the red cube into Nopal’s mouth, who chewed it with vigor. She had done so with just about everything in the large salad bowl that Holly had carried in. Butler had prepared it in the kitchen, though when Holly had gone to retrieve it, she could read the manservant’s ill grace from the way that he nearly sliced  _ through _ the cutting board.

She was probably going to have to talk to him. And Artemis. Holly sighed. She didn’t know herself why she was doing this. But it was difficult to reconcile the image of the cackling Opal Koboi who shot lightning bolts and nearly blew a hole in the crust in an effort to expose the People with the pixie before her. 

She contented herself with offering Nopal a cucumber slice, which the pixie greedily devoured.

“Don’t you ever get full?” Holly asked, glancing at the now mostly empty bowl. The elf guessed she could probably make it about half-way through the massive helping before being too full to eat another leaf. Mulch could probably finish the whole thing in several bites, but as that would involve eating fruit and vegetables, he’d probably pass on it.

“I haven’t gotten full yet,” Nopal answered, “so I don’t know. I need to eat more to find out. Eating is very fun, though.”

Holly couldn’t help but laugh at that. Nopal rewarded her with a soft giggle. Holly being happy was always a fun thing for Nopal. It was a good look on her.

For Holly, it was endlessly fascinating what Nopal—or at least how Opal was playing the character of Nopal—knew and what she didn’t. Artemis had run some tests earlier and shown her old parts of a disassembled LEP helmet. Nopal was able to identify every single piece and what it did.  _ Holly  _ didn’t even know the helmet had all those functions. Then the pixie would say something along the lines of “eating is fun.”

She hadn’t even asked to take off the straitjacket at any point. Of course, if she did, that would have made Holly instantly suspicious, not to mention the fact that if Holly had even  _ thought _ about taking off the restraints Artemis and Butler would have had collective aneurysms. Still, it seemed Nopal didn’t even have a conception that she  _ could _ have the straitjacket taken off.

“Say, Nopal.”

“Yes, Holly?”

“Are you uncomfortable at all? Do you need anything?” she probed.

Nopal thought about this. She had a blanket, a soft bed, and food. It was good food. She had some wounds in her tongue and mouth where she had repeatedly bit herself figuring out how to chew, but she wasn’t going to complain about  _ that _ . She couldn’t move, but then again, that wasn’t all that unusual. All in all, she felt quite satisfied.

“Nothing,” Nopal eventually answered. “I’m perfectly content.”

_ Huh,  _ Holly mused.  _ How serene. _

“Well, maybe later if you pass Arty and the big man’s tests we’ll let you out of...” Holly gestured towards Nopal’s straitjacket, “this.”

Nopal cocked her head, a polite smile of perfect confusion on her face.

“Why remove the straitjacket? It is okay if I don’t move.”

Holly felt mildly disturbed by that. There was a specter of her old claustrophobia sneaking in, she knew that. But she thought again about Nopal’s life, how it was unasked and unwanted. How the pixie saw nothing wrong with being bound like a lunatic. Her stomach twisted.

Holly shook her head and ran a hand through the pixie’s hair. It was grimy and tangled. She had to admit, if Opal was tricking her, and a small, dark part of her  _ did  _ think that, contrary to what Artemis and Butler might think, then she might just kill the fairy in front of her.

In the moment though, she watched Nopal’s expression as the simple physical contact melted her. Holly’s fingers left the pixie’s skin and she whimpered.

“Holly, you asked me if I needed anything, right? I did not want anything when you asked me, but now I have something I want.” The words came out in a rush, as if Holly’s touch had broken fourth a dam.

Holly quirked an eyebrow, interested.

“And what would that be?” she asked, leaning forward.

“Please,” Nopal gasped, “please touch my forehead again. Your fingers are very warm, and it was my favorite when I was in the incubator.”

The elf froze. Gods. She wanted so desperately to believe. Yet the pragmatic part of her brain whispered to her, coming from the very dark recesses where she didn’t like to go.  _ You may have to kill her. _

_ I know, d’arvit, _ she hissed at herself.  _ But look at her! _

Holly reached out her calloused, nut-brown fingers and gently laid them on Nopal’s forehead. She made a sound of delight and nuzzled the digits. There was a desperation to it, like how a kitten clings to their mother. Nopal had waited so very long for this.

For a long time, neither said anything, basking in the moment. Nopal had to break contact after a while though. Her neck couldn’t quite support itself fully, and she dutifully laid her head back on a plush pillow. She had a silly smile sprawled over her delicate features.

“Warm,” the clone said simply.

Holly rested her cheek against her palm. She sat there, just looking, as Nopal drifted peacefully off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Artemis sat in the kitchen, finally managing to tear his eyes away from his phone. He had finally managed to reach his parents through Juliet. They were also safe, but unlikely to return to the manor immediately. The Fowls had gotten themselves involved in relief efforts in London and felt they could do the most good there. They were actually second-guessing their decision, but they now felt much better with a Butler and the twins in sight.

_ Fancy that, Irishmen helping to restore order in the capital of England _ , Artemis thought, a touch amused by the irony. He looked up at Butler, who was washing the dishes from their earlier lunch.

“Well, Butler, my parents are safe. Regrettably, they’ve insisted on staying. I shall trust them for the time-being despite London not being perhaps the safest place for them to be right now,” he informed the manservant.

Butler finished drying a dish and sighed, massive shoulders drooping.

“I’m not exactly thrilled to hear Juliet is going so soon either. She’s grown up since the twins became her charges, but going so soon after this whole incident reeks of her struggling to make up for her failure.”

“Have faith, old friend. The twins and my parents will not let her behave in too rash a manner,” Artemis said, laying a reassuring hand on his bodyguard’s shoulder. “We managed to avoid catastrophe and, not to be too conceited, but it would have been worse for Juliet if I, well…”

_ Died _ . The word was left unsaid but hung in the air heavier for it. Butler wasn’t exactly sure he had processed all of the implications of Artemis’s original plan. A clone illegally built by the People to house his disembodied soul. Well, the plan  _ had  _ been put into action. Just not by him. Which led to their current predicament.

“I expect you have some reservations about Opal being in the house, Butler?” Artemis asked, pre-empting his concerns.

“Some,” Butler agreed, looking and feeling very much his age. Ten or fifteen years magically older, but the job had worn him down beyond that. Artemis didn’t miss the smile lines radiating out from Butler’s eyes and felt a drop of melancholy enter his own.

“Now, old friend,” he said gently, “not just ‘some’ I should think. I saw your expression when we brought her out. You looked like you wanted to shoot her right then and there.”

Butler nodded, not bothering to deny it. He checked his holster, making sure his weapon was there.

“I still do,” he admitted. He shook his massive head. “I can’t see the sense in keeping her around when there’s even a chance that she’s planning the death of everybody in this manor.”

He leaned back in his chair, and heard the relatively delicate wood  _ creak _ .

“Artemis, I’m at the point where I can’t even protect you or Holly from a pixie in a straitjacket with muscles so weak she can’t even lift her head.”

Artemis shook his head slowly.

“That’s not true, Butler,” he denied. “You have done nothing incorrect in your efforts to protect me,” He smiled, a touch sadly. “No, old friend, it’s simply my constant obstruction that’s been preventing you from carrying out your duties.”

They sat in silence for a while, the two of them remembering the adventures that they shared. All the close calls and narrow victories seemed so far away now when before they had been so exhilarating.  _ Near-death certainly does that to you, _ Artemis thought.  _ Butler must think like this often. _

“Butler, do we still have the blend of your penthanol cocktail?” Artemis asked.

“I believe so,” Butler replied, knowing where this was going. He was a little heartened by this. Not that he had lost faith in his charge, no not for a second, but the little reassurances were good for his heart. “Are you certain this will work on a fairy?”

“I’ve made a study of their biology,” the genius said, a tad smug. “It will work even better since Opal does not have any magic.”

“I’ll go retrieve a syringe,” Butler said, getting up. He paused at the doorway. “Ah, and about Holly-”

“One crisis after another, old friend. But I’ll expect that I’ll have to be forthright with her.” Artemis was appalled at even saying that.

Butler simply smiled and left.

_ The only crisis with her is what you did to her lips _ , he thought to himself.

—

Artemis walked up to the guest room, stifling a yawn. He had to get some sleep in. Certainly, all of human civilization had just been momentarily returned to the paper age, but he could afford some rest before tackling that issue. Saving the world had earned him that much, surely.

But of course, the person who was behind it was possibly still on the loose. “Loose” meaning confined in a highly alarmed, booby-trapped, and monitored guest-room. That said, she had started her plan trapped in an Atlantis maximum-security prison so he didn’t hold his breath.

Artemis retrieved a small, black carrying case from his pocket. Within it was a syringe and a cocktail of questionably-legal to outright-illegal truth drugs that Butler and Artemis had worked together to perfect years ago.

Artemis grimaced. The drug had been developed when he was a self-centered brat. After that lie to Holly about drugging her with a truth serum the idea had been planted in his head for just that. A serum that would work on fairies and make them highly suggestible and unable to lie. A human answer to the mesmer, he had justified.

The thought that he had to use it now, even in order to ascertain the safety of his two closest friends, had him disgusted with himself. It really would have been much simpler and cleaner to kill her. 

He finally reached the guest room where Opal was staying. Holly was currently with her, so he decided not to knock. Discourtesy was apparently endearing to her.

Artemis put the syringe case back into his pocket and opened the door a touch. It was soundless, as Butler would not permit any noisy hinges in the manor. The door opened up to a scene that made Artemis’s breath catch.

The soft light of afternoon sun draped the room in gentle ribbons of light. Motes of dust undulated rhythmically on lacy beams of sun. The room was cool, but felt  _ warm _ . 

Holly, dappled in strips of golden light, had her forehead pressed against Nopal’s. The sleeping pixie breathed peacefully, and the elf lifted her head. She smiled to herself, running a fond hand across Nopal’s head. The amber figure that she cast in the room reminded Artemis fairies had been creatures of myth and wonder for so long. All the mystique and enchantment he should have felt when he was twelve rushed into him, concentrated in a single, lithe figure.

“A goddess,” he murmured to himself.

Holly finally noticed him, meeting his mismatched eyes with her own. She put a finger to her mouth, silencing him. Quietly, she extricated herself from the room and tip-toed over to him. The elf closed the door behind her before she spoke, breaking the spell.

“Alright,” she said, running a hand through her undercut, “Nopal doesn’t have any magic. Just probed her. Some damage from dark magic rattling around in her, but not a drop right now. Definitely has never done the ritual.”

Artemis snapped out of his reverie as he processed this.

“Uh,” he agreed. 

_ Are you going to make this stuttering a habit, Artemis? _ he hissed at himself. Holly noticed his sudden eloquence and gave him a good natured snort. 

“Earth to Arty,” she teased. “Mission control says there’s something wrong with your tongue.”

_ You cut it on a holly _ , she thought, and was immediately mortified by it.

Artemis followed her line of logic, being close enough to her and also being a genius. Being a genius, he did the correct thing and pointedly looked away from Holly’s cherubic, heart-shaped lips and talked shop.

“Ah-hem,” he began, clearing his throat. “I notice that you’re calling her Nopal. Tentatively, I hope.”

Holly nodded, also looking away from Artemis.

“Right, she hasn’t completely got me convinced yet. Like you said, the way she acts appeals to me so much it gives me the creeps.”

“Which I doubt is the full extent of your feelings. Nevertheless, you didn’t confirm she didn’t have magic initially, did you? And yet it appears you did not bring mirrored lenses of any kind?”

Holly rolled her eyes.

“You sound like Trouble sometimes,” she said and pointed at an eye. “Mirrored contacts, Fowl. I had Butler lend me some. I’m not walking around your house looking like a giant housefly.”

“You’d make for a very intimidating one, captain,” Artemis said, smiling.

“Shut it, mud-boy, before I show you how intimidating this fly’s buzz baton is.”

The two smiled at the mild banter. 

_ I have to tell her I’m about to drug Opal in order to get the truth from her. _

Artemis knew that he had to be honest and upfront. And yet the thought of explaining the serum that he had developed after kidnapping Holly made him ill. That was the worst lie he had told her when they first met. He remembered her expression when he had told her she had betrayed her entire People with drugs that didn’t exist. 

Perhaps he could get away with a lie of omission. He had no need to tell her. And getting the truth out of the clone was  _ vital _ . Everyone’s safety depended on it in no uncertain terms. 

And yet. He couldn’t lie to her about this. Not now.

Holly watched Artemis as he struggled with himself for a moment. There was a fond expression on her face. This was a changed person. She reached out, a little hesitantly. After a moment of deliberation, she assertively laid a hand on Artemis’s arm.

“You silly mud-boy,” she chided, “you’re hiding something from me again, aren’t you?”

“Holly, I-”

“Arty, it’s fine,” she interrupted. Holy squeezed his arm reassuringly. “You’ve got that look on your face. I know you too well and you’re tired. It’s sweet how you’re struggling over whether to tell me something or not, but clearly you’ve got a reason you don’t want me to know.” She shrugged. “That’s okay. I trust you. Do it when I’m not around. I don’t have to know.”

Artemis met her eyes, grateful.

“Thank you, Holly,” he said, trying to convey just how much he meant it.

“Anytime, Arty,” she replied easily. “Are you going in now? She just got to sleep.”

Artemis fought down a yawn. Doing that in polite company was vulgar.

“No, not anymore. I think I shall do the same thing as Opal and retire to my room.”

“You deserve that after saving the world.”

“My thoughts exactly, captain.”

They stood there for a while, sharing a look. Holly was beginning to wonder what Artemis was thinking before he spoke again.

“I am very tired, Holly. I believe I may need somebody to walk me over to my quarters.”

“Just ask Butl-” she began flippantly. Then she thought about it. An impish smile twitched at her lips.

“Just ask Butler to do it,” she said challengingly, a blush starting to creep onto his face.

“Alas, he is quite far away,” Artemis said, excitement also creeping into his voice. “I don’t believe I will be able to reach him before I collapse.”

He made a mock-stumble that turned into a real stumble because of his fatigue and lack of coordination. Holly caught him with little difficulty, catching him around the waist. Gods, for a mud-man he smelled  _ good _ .

“Alright,” she grunted, heaving him back to balancing on his two left feet, “I’ll walk you back.”

“Thank you, captain.”

“...only cuddling tonight, though.”

“Of course. What else were you thinking of?”

Holly blushed and said nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

That night, Nopal had a dream. 

At first, she thought she had simply woken up. But one small detail seemed to bug her to no end. The straitjacket was  _ tight. _ Before, it was itchy, but now it  _ burned _ . It felt as if tracts of constricting velcro were being slowly dragged across her bare skin.

She knew what it was. A dream. That was because it simply wasn’t true that the straitjacket was tightening so much that she could feel her ribs creaking. The air being driven out of her everytime she exhaled was fake. The straitjacket shrinking ever smaller wasn’t real.

Arty and Holly wouldn’t do that to her.

Upon that realization, gentle hands pried the itchy garment off of her. Free, Nopal inhaled the sweet night air. She stood, albeit with some difficulty, and surveyed her surroundings.

Now she stood in an empty field of grey. There was grass beneath her bare feet. She savored the sensation, wiggling her toes and getting them slightly damp. The sky above was turbulent, the moody grey clouds threatening an impending storm.

Nopal found that the plane stretched in all directions for as far as she could see. Probably forever, her mind told her. Yet she wasn’t alone. She saw it off in the distance. A towering cube of smoke. And yet as it raged within itself, a miniature tempest, it remained tightly enclosed by an invisible barrier.

The curious pixie walked towards it for an indeterminate amount of time. Probably a long time. Who knows? Eventually she padded up to the cube. It was larger than expected. Completely disproportionate to what it had appeared to have been.

Inside, a whirling dervish of ash and smoke blew wildly. Rogue tendrils reached out and lashed against invisible walls, but, for the most part, the miniature cyclone seemed to be contained. 

Nopal spotted objects being borne by the winds. Pieces of technology, both fairy and human. Plaques with writings on them she could not decipher. Black, disembodied fairy hands reaching, pulling, oppressing, as they writhed within. She saw them for what they were; chains.

Someone was being kept inside. Trapped. Imprisoned. If Nopal placed her ear against the “glass” she could hear someone trying to get out. Maybe. It was being drowned out by the howling wind.

Interestingly enough, the invisible wall was something else. It wasn’t the same as the clouds of pollutant-choked smog. Those came from the outside to suffocate the prisoner. But what kept them inside  _ was _ the prisoner. Nopal couldn’t figure out how she knew it, but she did.

Maybe she could break the person out? But how do you do that when the prisoner imprisons himself? Nopal frowned. She knew she wouldn’t want to be trapped like that.

But what could she really do about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hell to be trapped like that.


	10. Chapter 10

“Nopal needs a bath. She’s filthy.”

“I also object to the smell getting on the sheets.”

“At least you don’t have to feed her, big man.”

Artemis cocked an eyebrow. Holly, Butler, and Artemis were at the breakfast table bickering as usual. After the dishes had been cleared away, they were  _ supposed _ to be discussing whether or not they should tell Nopal about Opal Koboi or indeed, the greater situation outside. At the moment, they were all acting under the assumption they had to at least treat Opal/Nopal humanely.

That said, if the pixie snoozing in one of Artemis’s guest rooms was indeed Nopal, then the last thing they would want is for anything to somehow restore Opal. Knowing the genocidal fairy, there might even have been a contingency inside of Nopal completely unrelated to the soul shenanigans that had occurred on the manor grounds.

Serious matters aside, Artemis  _ had _ to chip in on the bathing situation.

“What about Opal’s restraints?”

“Arty, you’re the genius here,” Holly said, very slowly as if she were talking instead to somebody a few watts dim of a halo-lamp. “So, do you  _ think _ I’m going to take Nopal in her straitjacket and hose her down in that?”

“...I trust that the answer is no.”

“You trust correctly,” Butler said, nodding sagely. He looked over at Holly. “That issue aside, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to allow me to guard her instead? Like you mentioned, she has no magic to speak of, so I would be at no risk.”

“I don’t think so, Butler,” Holly said teasingly. “As much as I would appreciate you helping out with the whole human-sized-shower situation, I don’t think your bodyguard training extends to washing pixie hair.”

“You’d be surprised,” Butler said, taking a sip of coffee. “Blue Diamond training means I have to prepare for all eventualities. That includes my charge deciding to grow long hair.”

Artemis reached up protectively to his head. 

“Jokes aside, being alone in a bathroom with Opal Koboi is too reckless. I trust your ability to handle yourself, Holly, but I’d rather be alone in a room with an armed troll than an unarmed Opal.”

“What would a troll even do with a gun? Eat it?”

“Well, after seeing what Mulch was able to do riding a troll, I could envision mounting plasma cannons on their shoulders,” Artemis mused, only half-jokingly. 

“Gods, mud-boy, if I see so much as a single tub of plasma-gel in your workshop I’m having you arrested.”

Butler cleared his throat.

“While arresting my employer would be amusing, I am still waiting on a sensible and  _ safe _ solution to bathing Opal.”

“We could wash her down in one of the decontamination baths in my lab,” Artemis volunteered.

Holly made a face.

“Rejected. Use your massive brains to think of something better.”

“Allowing her in your lab, no matter the reason is an unacceptable risk,” Butler agreed.

Artemis picked some non-existent from his jacket. Butler, who knew Artemis, figured that what he was about to say would be something that his charge would have preferred to never come up. His eyes narrowed.

“Well,” the genius said, not quite managing to suppress the embarrassment creeping into his voice, “there is the option of using the twin’s bathrooms.”

Butler, who knew the twins, narrowed his eyes further.

“Artemis, what do you mean?”

“Well, Beckett twisted my arm, as it were-”

“Probably literally,” Holly quipped.

“Yes, thank you. Anyhow, as I was saying, Beckett wanted a way to consistently escape bath time. Therefore Myles and I constructed an escape shaft in the bathroom with the challenge that it had to be undetectable to both you and Juliet.”

Artemis was looking at Holly, pointedly not meeting Butler’s accusatory gaze. The elf’s smile was impish.

“What are you looking at, Arty? Butler looks like he has something he wants to say to you.”

“Words will be had with the twins when they return,” Butler said, not quite a growl. “And you as well, Artemis, after this.”

Artemis sagged a little bit. And today was going so well.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to be thrilled to hear that the tunnel is sized for the twins.”

Holly lost it. Butler did not. Quite the opposite, in fact.

—

Nopal had woken up that day on the right side of the bed. Or she would assume. There were so many variables as to whether or not you did indeed wake up on the right side of the bed. To top it off, you were unconscious the entire time. Right or left really didn’t factor into it.

Unrelatedly, her muscles were sore all over. That made sense since she had done some vigorous exercise the other day. Supporting her neck and chewing for instance. Nopal had thought about sitting up, but whatever vestigial feeling she had in her abdominals told her it would probably be a bad idea. So she was content to wait for something to happen.

Hopefully the thing happening would be Holly or Arty. Holly had spent a lot of time with her—a whole day, she  _ never _ did that—and Nopal was quite happy about that. Unfortunately, Arty was not there the whole time. He had simply asked her questions about a disassembled helmet and left. The technology in it was somewhat primitive, and the pixie had the feeling that she could make some major improvements in the energy expenditure as well as compact some of the features. Maybe she’d ask Arty if she could help with his projects next time.

The door opened. Joyful coincidence. Holly had arrived. Nopal did not have to wait very long for her to come in, which was fortunate, as if Holly had neglected her for a day or two she would have died. Nopal had the feeling that dying of starvation would be an unpleasant way to go.

And not just Holly, but also Arty! He had that tight expression on his face which meant he was about to do something underhanded, as always. Nopal thought that it made him look rather handsome. Either that, or it made him look closer to a naked mole rat. The Big Man—Butler as she heard him being called—was not there, which relieved Nopal somewhat. He was kind of scary. 

“Hi Holly,” she greeted, breaking into a wide smile. “Hi Arty.”

Holly matched her smile. Arty winced. 

“Ah,” said Nopal, catching her mistake. Two times now he had winced when she had used that name. She had to be sure, as she was understandably reluctant to drop that form of address. “Arty does not like it when I say his name.”

She winced.

“I’m sorry.”

Holly shot a look at Arty, and he looked faintly embarrassed. It didn’t last long though, as Arty was very good at smoothing his face back into that classic Arty-look. 

“Er, no apologies are in order…”

He hesitated for a moment.

“Nopal. But we should bathe you. You have gone too long without one.”

A reasonable explanation given, he walked over to Nopal’s side and promptly tried to lift her off of the bed. Nopal was not very heavy by any metric, or at least she did not feel that she was, but the pixie still felt Arty’s arms wobble slightly before he finally managed to princess-carry her. Holly rushed over to help support his failing arms. Nopal did not know exactly where she was being taken, but being held by Holly and Arty was something of a transcendent experience. They took her somewhere, but she didn’t really pay attention.

She was not broken out of her blissful reverie until her feet once again touched the ground. She almost immediately fell over, of course. Standing was quite beyond her at the moment. Arty tried to catch her with some rather wobbly hands, while Holly  _ actually _ caught her. 

“Nopal, you alright?” Holly grunted, hefting the pixie against her shoulder.

Nopal was at present resting her chin on Holly’s shoulder, soaking in her new surroundings. It was a room for two people, probably. On one side was a disarray of all manner of toys, detritus, and despite both Butlers’ best efforts, live insects. It is likely that a hurricane could blow through that side and make it cleaner. Nopal kind of liked it.

The other side was very much the opposite. It was full of technical manuals and primly pressed suits. The latter was sized for a young child. Everything was placed in an organized manner and not a centimeter out of place. Nopal could also see the appeal of living there.

Nopal felt Holly pat her on the back, getting her attention.

“Alright, Nopal, you kind of smell awful, so I’ll go start the water for you, alright?”

Nopal nodded in affirmative, taking the opportunity to ponder on what the correct smell was to have for herself. Maybe like Holly? Or maybe Arty. What did she currently smell like, anyway?

Artemis nodded, meeting Nopal’s gaze as Holly handed her off. 

“I believe you’re wondering what you currently smell like, correct? I would venture that you smell similar to Beckett, but I’m not certain that means anything to you.”

Nopal was leaning against Arty’s jacket to support herself. Indeed, Beckett was an entirely unknown quantity to her. 

“Nope, Ar-”, she began before catching herself. 

She felt Arty sigh. He must really dislike being called by that name and Nopal for the first time felt the violent urge to kick herself. Was that normal? But what could she call him? Maybe she would just call him “you.” Not displeasing Arty was very important.

Nopal was a little tired. Standing was impossible, and keeping herself on her feet, even though she was leaning almost all of her weight onto Arty, was very difficult. The pixie felt Artemis extricate one of his hands steadying her and retrieve something from his pocket.

In a decidedly un-Arty movement, he tore the velcro off of a black bag with his teeth and fiddled with it using one hand. Eventually, he gave up and let go off both hands, keeping Nopal close to his body using only his elbows.

He was bony, kind of cold, and smelled of cologne. Well, only one thing to do now. Nopal nuzzled into Arty’s chest like her life depended on it. This was an incredible experience. She felt Arty stiffen underneath her assault. He seemed to hesitate. 

Out of the corner of the eye, Nopal saw that Arty was holding a syringe. He was also wearing a decidedly uncomfortable expression. Needles were often extremely painful, so Nopal wondered what exactly he was going to do with it. The thought seemed to have leaked out onto her face, as Arty met her eyes and looked away. Was that guilt?

“I’m... sorry, if you are indeed who you claim you are,” he apologized. “The safety of my friends is simply too much to gamble on sentiment.”

Nopal nodded, not quite understanding. However, she understood that friends were very important. For example, Holly and Arty. Though now that she thought about it, she hadn’t done much for either of them. Wasn’t a friendship a  _ quid pro quo _ ? Where was her  _ quo _ for their  _ quid _ ?

The thought frightened her. What if they weren’t going to stay her friends because she was being a dead weight? She had to do better.

“I don’t suppose this makes it any better, but I would just like to ask before,” Artemis said, bringing the syringe closer to Nopal’s carotid artery. Easier access to the brain, made sense. “May I? This is a truth serum, and I am going to inject it into your carotid artery.”

Nopal, with a mighty exertion, tried to stand a little straighter. Arty was asking her something. And even if she didn’t exactly like needles, especially ones that went into her neck, she wanted to be a friend. With some difficulty, she bared her neck, smooshing her ear against the crook of Arty’s elbow. 

“I’m ready for a shot now,” Nopal said, closing her eyes.

It was at this moment that Holly opened the door from the bathroom.


	11. Chapter 11

Holly looked at the scene in front of her. Artemis stood, syringe in hand, staring back at her with the widest, guiltiest eyes that she had ever seen. Seriously, she could have flown a shuttle through those whites. Nopal was draped over his elbow with her neck bared and eyes closed. The scene very much reminded her of the mud-man myth of vampires, complete with paleness and the clear intent to stab sharp objects into somebody’s neck.

At this point, people who knew Holly less well would have expected her to explode and tackle Artemis to the ground like a one-elf tempest of righteousness and indignation. Granted, if this were the Artemis of just four years ago, she might’ve. Now? There was anger, yes, but mostly exasperation. She had dealt with Artemis’ shenanigans so much now that the very idea that Artemis was going to do something like plunge a needle into some probably innocent pixie’s throat like some half-rate hitman didn’t make her angry at all.

Okay fine, she was a  _ little _ angry.

“Arty,” she said, her tone making it clear that if she didn’t receive an explanation then somebody was going to get socked, “what are you doing?”

The exceedingly guilty-looking vampire hesitated for several seconds. Eventually, his shoulders drooped. Artemis learned the important lesson that the effects of heart-to-hearts in the hallways were somewhat lessened when he did the thing he wanted to hide in front of the person he wanted to hide things from. Go figure. Nevertheless, he held out for an impressive several seconds as he debated between lying and telling the truth. Holly likewise restrained herself from punching Artemis for a  _ saintly _ several seconds. When people said she had no patience, they had never seen her deal with this mud-boy.

Artemis carefully removed the syringe from Nopal’s waiting neck. He had been caught in quite the compromising position. Running away was not exactly an option, and no lie was getting him out of this. The truth, then. And they said Artemis Fowl never learned. 

Nobody said that, but if the saying was that Artemis Fowl needed to unlearn being stubbornly secretive and a half-way pathological-liar, that was much more accurate.

Artemis used his free hand to stabilize Nopal, bringing the pixie tighter to his chest as a consequence. Said pixie let out a squeak of delight which the other two in the room ignored..

“Holly, what I have here is a truth serum that I developed in secret meant exclusively for the People,” Artemis admitted. “I believe that this is the best way to ensure our safety. I failed to tell you because I...”

Artemis trailed off. He caught Holly’s glare, his own deep-blue eye boring into his soul. The message was clear.  _ Tell me the truth, mud-boy _ . Artemis gulped.

“...the serum was developed after your capture. I did not want to use anything I had made during that time, particularly in front of you. I myself wish to bury those memories, and I doubt that you are overly fond of them either.”

Holly sighed exasperatedly, or at least tried to. In reality, after dealing with the same thing so many times, it came out more as a frustrated wheeze. The captain stalked over to Artemis, peeling Nopal off of him. Said pixie writhed beneath her straitjacket in displeasure but kept her peace when Holly held her protectively.

“I sense you are upset,” Artemis perceptively said, head and arms drooping. He was still holding the syringe in one hand and at the moment felt like Beckett being caught with a particularly disgusting worm in his grip. 

Holly rolled her eyes and bit down the first several replies. He was being remorseful at least. And she confirmed that Artemis was at least not trying to murder Nopal. She hadn’t believed that to be the case—one, this was way too sloppy for Fowl, and two, she trusted him to not be that kind of person—but it was good to hear it from his mouth.

“Look,” she said, tone more measured, “I’m kind of mad. Sure.”

“I deeply apologize,” Artemis said, a bitter smile making its way to his lips.

_ Is he thinking I’m about to dump him? Gods, he’s insecure. _ Holly’s hands twitched with the instinct to go over and hug the mud boy. That was dangerous. She damn-near instantly forgave him. Stupid, cute mud-boy doe eyes.

Then,  _ Frond did I just assume that we’re going out? _

“Arty,” she continued, “I’m mad, yes. I’m mad that you were about to plunge a needle into Nopal’s throat. And it’s a little unsettling that you’ve finally gotten around to make that fairy-truth serum. But I’ve  _ forgiven  _ you for that. You’re not that person anymore.”

Her eyes hardened. As much as she didn’t like it, she had to scold him a little bit. This whole trust business had to go both ways, d’arvit.

“ _ But _ , mud-boy, that doesn’t mean you go behind my back for something this small. I thought you were going to do something incredibly immoral that I wanted nothing to do with, and frankly? I was kind of relieved I wasn’t going to be doing it. But  _ this? _ Arty, do you really think so little of our relationship that I’m going to hate you for doing something that’s smart? Just because of who you were six years ago?”

Artemis looked abashed. He forced himself to meet Holly’s mismatched eyes. His own on the left side, his better half on the right.

“You’re correct, Holly. I should have trusted you. Does this mean that I should-”

“Yes, Fowl. It’s still disgusting, but I’ll make my peace with it. Do it before I change my mind. And believe me, we’re going to  _ talk _ after this.”

The two stared at each other, having aired some of their grievances. Holly didn’t think that this would change Artemis overnight, but it was a start. Then she felt Nopal gently headbutt her in the chest. She looked down at the pixie, looking up at her with surprising defiance.

“Holly, don’t be mean,” the Nopal scolded. “I want to tell the truth.”

Immediately, some of the tension went out of the room. There was such a desire to do  _ something _ for either of the two that it was palpable. Holly didn’t think she would have had the heart to tell the pixie no even if she had wanted to. She ran a hand through the clone’s hair, finding it slightly damp from sweat.

“Alright, Nopal, if it’s what you want,” the elf reassured her. “And don’t worry about it too much. I’m not  _ that _ mad at him, yelling at Arty is just a pastime.”

“It’s a position that I’m in so often it has become second-nature,” Artemis drily remarked.

He approached the two fairies with his syringe.

“Alright, so no objections with continuing, Holly?”

Nopal looked up at Holly, parroting the question with a defiant pout.

“No,” Holly sighed. “Get it over with.”

Artemis watched Nopal. Holly had agreed. If Opal did indeed lurk beneath that cute exterior, it would be at this point that the megalomaniac would have gotten worried. There were no signs of hesitancy. Quite the opposite. Nopal was once again straining to bare her neck out for Artemis.

Thinking what Holly was imaging earlier with the vampires, Artemis pulled an alcohol pad and gently wiped Nopal’s neck. No need for doubtlessly weak immune system to suddenly be fighting off an infection. He then briskly plunged the needle into her carotid artery, and slowly injected the serum with Holly supporting the pixie’s neck.

After several seconds, Nopal’s eyes clouded, though they still contained a great deal more lucidity than Artemis was expecting. It seemed to have worked. And now they would find out whether or not Opal was truly residing in the clone’s body.

Or they would be played for fools.

“Is your name Nopal?” Artemis asked.

“Nopal is Nopal,” the pixie said, slightly slurred.

“Yes or no?”

“Yeees.”

Holly looked at Artemis.

“Are you sure this is working, Arty?”

“I feel my brain all fuzzy,” Nopal answered for him. Then she clarified. “I am probably highly susceptible to suggestion. I feel like once I start speaking it will be straight from my consciousness and I don’t think I can formulate any lies right now when asked a question.”

Artemis nodded hesitantly. This was within projected results.

“Alright,” he said, licking his lips. “Are you Opal Koboi?”

“No,” Nopal answered immediately. “Nopal is  _ Nopal _ .”

Artemis let out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. Holly had a look of similar relief. Artemis promptly refocused. They weren’t quite out of the metaphorical Opal Koboi woods yet.

“Is there any contingency plan that you can feel implanted in your psyche that may allow Opal Koboi to reemerge?”

“No,” the pixie murmured, “Nopal doesn’t know an Opal Koboi.”

“Do you feel any remnants of Opal Koboi in your psyche?” Artemis pressed. Nopal didn’t exactly know who she used to be or who had created her, but that was mostly by design. Perhaps she  _ should _ have been told after all.

“No. Arty who is-” Nopal began. Then she stopped, contorting her face into abject horror. She whined pathetically, a high and keening sound, as she tried to disappear into Holly. The elf looked at her in alarm, as the pixie began to babble.

“No, no, I didn’t mean to say that! Arty, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she started blubbering as tears began pouring out from her wide and horrified eyes. “Please don’t abandon me. I promise I’ll be a good friend from now on. I’ll never tell any lies and never make either of you worry. I’ll do everything. I can stop eating. I’ll fix the helmets. Please don’t leave me.”

She looked at Artemis, fearful and begging. He could see her arms twitching as she instinctively tried to raise her arms to reach him, but failing.

“I’m sorry, don’t go, you’re all I have,” she pleaded. 

The room was silent save for Nopal’s hiccuping and wracking sobs. She was trembling violently in Holly’s arms, unresponsive. 

When Artemis had gotten Holly’s grudging permission to drug the pixie, he expected some degree of relief. Now? He felt nauseous. He walked unsurely towards Holly, reaching out a hand. She gave him a similarly helpless look, simply holding onto the pixie.

He let the hand drop.

“Tell her that she can call me ‘Arty,’” he said dumbly.


	12. Chapter 12

Artemis sat at his office chair. He was tapping at his laptop, looking at the grim news in front of him. Incoming reports from hundreds of places where the technology had failed catastrophically. Some reports were even coming by telegram, for goodness sake.

There was a lot he could do to help. But he had to focus on the areas where  _ only _ he could help. He had faith that humanity’s best and brightest could mop up the rest. 

However, he was also distracted. 

Thankfully, Artemis didn’t need to agonize for much longer as Holly swept into the room. She looked mildly aggrieved. The elf’s hair was damp and her sleeves were rolled up, exposing muscular forearms. 

“Urgh,” she grunted out as a greeting, “bathing a person is a lot harder than I thought it’d be.” She glanced at Artemis’s desk. “Ooh, is that one of Butler’s vegetable spring rolls? Mine.”

The captain snatched Artemis’s untouched food and hopped into a worn armchair beside him. Artemis had moved it there earlier, knowing it was the one the elf usually lazed around while in the manor. He hadn’t even asked Butler to do it.

Granted, that was mostly because Butler would know exactly what he was moving it there for, but still.

Artemis closed his laptop and glanced at the elf beside him. She was sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of the armchair and he was faintly afraid that she’d disappear into it. The diminutive captain was inhaling the food and likely getting detritus on the chair. At least she looked comfy.

Holly caught his glance mid-chew.

“What?” she demanded around a mouthful of veggies. “Never seen a fairy eat before?”

“Heavens no,” he replied easily. “Just never a fairy eating like that without unhinging their jaw beforehand.”

“Shut up, Fowl. I’m hungry, sue me.”

“I’ll be in contact with my lawyers.”

Holly let out what could have been a snort or a choke. Whichever it was, it soon turned into a choke and the elf had to slap a fist to her chest repeatedly. Artemis offered her a cup of tea, which she gratefully took and swallowed.

“Bleh, cold,” she said, making a face. Holly handed the cup back into Artemis’s waiting hand, who in turn replaced it into the saucer. It made a nice  _ click _ .

“So, what were you working on?” she asked, indicating towards his closed laptop.

“Assessing the damage worldwide. In addition, I am currently forming a tentative plan for a rescue attempt on the ISS.”

Holly winced, sucking some air through her teeth.

“Ooh. How bad is it up there?”

“Grave. I’ve read through the emergency manuals and they do not cover multiple simultaneous total module failures due to the remote chances of such an occurrence. Whatever the extent of the current damage, time is of the essence. Even under normal circumstances getting any spacecraft into orbit and docking to the vessel would not be able to reach them in time.”

Artemis stared at the ceiling, doing some mental simulations.

“Optimistically, the astronauts managed to take shelter in some of the older modules. The water and oxygen reclamation systems in the Zvezda module should still be operational as it’s too old for it to be affected by Opal. However, taking into account the various failures in the newer modules, we could be looking at anywhere from two days to three weeks.”

Holly whistled, considering it. Even the People would have a tough time getting up there in time. It’s not like you can just drop a time stop in space. Then she realized something.

“D’arvit. N°1.”

Now it was Artemis’s turn to grimace. The ISS was a triumph of human ingenuity and bravery, but the little demon warlock meant a great deal to Artemis personally. The fact that he was currently on the moon was more than a little concerning.

Artemis leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. This was not going to be a restful several weeks. Holly looked him up and down. Still, this seemed like a more placid conversation than what he had expected. Perhaps Holly had forgotten to make good on her promise and would bring up the Nopal situation at a later date-

“You’re more keyed up than usual, Arty,” she observed. “What’s going through that massive noggin of yours?”

_ Ah, thought too soon _ .

“Rocket science, mostly,” he murmured.

“Not just that. You don’t have that math look about you. It’s about Nopal, isn’t it?”

Artemis’s eyes snapped open and he turned to Holly.

“Don’t lie to me, mud-boy. Elf-intuition,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “Frond, you haven’t had that look on your face since I punched you in it.”

Artemis brought a hand up to his face, rubbing at a phantom pain. It  _ was _ the first time anybody had seriously hit him. It left an impression.

“I see you’re still somewhat upset over it,” he said, a vain attempt at deflection.

“Well, we can talk about the trust issues we’ve got with each other later. We’ve got… a lot of time to spend with each other.”

Artemis felt himself flush at that admission. It was unfortunate that his atoms would not keep their integrity through another time travel jaunt. Skipping forward several weeks of restarting fairy and human technology, not to mention  _ being honest about feelings _ , the teenager saw a very,  _ very _ good thing developing. Surely there was a catch.

“You’re not going back to Haven yet? I’d imagine they need you down there.”

Holly grimaced, but shook her head.

“They probably need every pair of pointed ears they can get down there. But for one, I’m stuck up here until they can get a shuttle running. And if they can do that, there are probably better uses for it than to pick up a single elf. And two, I’m not going to leave possibly-Opal up on the surface with just you and Butler.”

“So I suppose you will be living in the mansion for the time being,” he said, hiding the pleasure in his tone with some difficulty.

“Looks like it, mud boy,” Holly said, not bothering to hide hers. Then she schooled her face, giving him the  _ serious-business _ look. “But, with this whole Atlantian-freak-show going up on the surface and you needing to go to space, you should probably rely on Nopal.”

_ Ah, right to the point _ , thought Artemis.  _ Why is she always so lovely when she is twisting my arm? _

“It seems risky,” he said in the tone that one responds in when scolded by their mother about getting along with the other children.

“You gave her the truth drug—which, by the way, I hope to Frond better be the last time I ever see it—yourself. What more confirmation do you need that Nopal isn’t the same as that pixie psycho?”

“She may have had contingency measures.”

“Arty, listen to yourself. Do you really think  _ Opal _ of all people had a plan for being dead?”

“...no, likely not.”

Holly nodded.

“I don’t think she could imagine herself losing at a game of chess,” she continued. “Even  _ your _ plan for cheating death was made on the fly.”

“I had some hours to plan it,” Artemis shrugged. Holly groaned and rolled her eyes.

“You know what I mean. Can’t you make up with her at least? You saw her. She was  _ crushed _ at the thought of you hating her.”

Artemis sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Apologies. Ever his forte.

“I’ll make no promises,” he said finally. “But I wouldn’t wish for her to suffer unduly.”

He interrupted Holly’s congratulatory punch-to-the-shoulder. 

“ _ But _ I’ll still hold my suspicions.”

“Whatever, mud-boy. I’m sure you, Nopal, and Foaly, whenever you figure out how to contact him, will be able to get N°1 back safe and sound.”

Artemis frowned.

“Are we to disclose Nopal’s identity to the People?”

Holly gave him the side-eye.

“Yes…? Why wouldn’t we?”

“Seeing as she is the reason that half of the electronics on the planet are now in flames, I doubt that the rest of the world will take kindly to Nopal’s continued existence, much less trust our word that she is who she says she is.”

“One problem at a time, mud-boy,” Holly commanded, getting up and pushing Artemis out of his chair. “Go tell Nopal you’re sorry.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” Artemis replied drily. He  _ let _ himself be pushed. Definitely.


	13. Chapter 13

Artemis stopped by the kitchen to grab something to eat. Holly  _ had _ stolen his food, after all. Just because he hadn’t touched it while working didn’t mean that he wasn’t eventually going to eat it. 

He grabbed a tin of foie gras pâté—naturally fed of course, he wasn’t a monster—and spread it over some crackers before harking the concoction down. 

On his way out, he bumped into a rather sore Butler. Contorting to fit into a five year-old sized tunnel was clearly not a job that suited the seven-foot-tall Eurasian man. The bodyguard was holding something clear away from himself with two fingers, wrinkling his nose at it. For all intents and purposes, it had the appearance of a soiled diaper.

“Butler,” Artemis greeted, cocking an eyebrow. “I see you’ve got something.”

“Artemis,” the manservant nodded. “I believe I’ve found another one of Beckett’s ‘secret stashes.’ I was wondering where the little bugger had hidden your mother’s chocolates.”

Artemis frowned, looking at the yellowed box. There was a brown, goopy mess festering at the center of it, so Beckett likely had forgotten of its existence. And, just like a sapling erupting from a squirrel-forsaken acorn, a tall stalk of mold was happily growing from the chocolate. Butler pushed a panel in the wall, revealing a chute. He promptly slid the rotten box of chocolates in and pulled a lever, incinerating it. A fair response.

“Well, I’m afraid Mrs. Fowl will be short a box of truffles for the foreseeable future. Or at least until you get the whole world economy business running again.”

“Your faith in me is heartening, but I’m afraid my priority at the moment is constructing a functional spacecraft from scratch.”

The bodyguard let out a low whistle.

“Well, Holly and I will be around if you should need any assistance.”

“Appreciated, old friend.”

Butler nodded and left the kitchen, off to see to the million things in the manor that allow Artemis's life to run smoothly. The lingering scent of smoky chocolate wafted out of the kitchen. At the smell, Artemis got an idea for a peace offering to Nopal. 

_ Of course, _ he thought sardonically, _ what better remuneration for an invasive drugging than sweets? _ Who said apologies were difficult?

Artemis massaged his temples. He certainly did have a lot of things to answer for. Nevertheless, ensuring that Holly and Butler came to no harm wasn’t something he was ever going to apologize for. Not that the thought abated the guilt over-much, but it was good to at least know what he was protecting at the end of the day.

Now time to dig through the cabinets, find where his mother had hidden the rest of her chocolates, and apologize to a possibly-pretending pixie mastermind.

—

Artemis straightened his tie before knocking. Not that he expected the occupant of the room to complain if he didn’t knock. However, Nopal was not Holly, and thus was not privy to their shared song-and-dance of courtesies and discourtesies. It was difficult to really pin down all the things they did by habit, even for them. It just felt so  _ right _ .

After receiving no answer besides some shuffling within the room, he entered. Nopal was lying on the bed, clearly enjoying the softness of her sheets. She was also no longer in her straitjacket. Artemis nearly had a heart attack before he found the straitjacket tossed carelessly over a chair. Beside it was an empty bowl with some fruit juice in it and a note. It was in Holly’s messy handwriting.

_ I’m not keeping Nopal in a straitjacket, mud-boy. Make sure she eats something. I need to complete the Ritual to see if I can’t heal any of her muscles into something that isn't slop. Don’t do anything stupid without Butler. - Holly _

Well, he would at least appreciate it Holly told him what she was going to do before-

_ Ah,  _ came the revelation.  _ This is what I do to people, isn’t it? Little wonder that Holly is always in such a fowl mood. _

The elf’s arguably-justifiable emancipation of Nopal aside, Artemis focused on the pixie, gaze sweeping over to where she was laying. She had locked her gaze onto him as soon as he had entered, but when he looked back she pretended that the ceiling was suddenly  _ fascinating _ . Which it was, mind you. Artemis had written several treatises on architecture, particularly Fowl manor, under the pseudonym L. Yevashon Plohn. Presently however, Artemis severely doubted that Nopal was pondering the roof beam’s exquisite blendings of form and function.

Artemis sighed. Stalling. 

Undoubtedly the clone still felt awful about the entire name affair. The genius  _ could _ have mixed an amnesiac into the truth serum, but potentially robbing Nopal of any of the few memories she had left Artemis feeling sick. Still, allowing people to call him “Arty” wasn’t necessarily something that Artemis was interested in. Three people doing it in his life were as much as he felt comfortable with. To top it all off, the words were coming from Opal Koboi’s mouth. Not quite the stuff of nightmares, but close.

Artemis sat down in a convenient stool by Nopal’s bed. A little tall for him, and the open window to his back let in a bit too much natural light for his tastes. The pixie had her back turned to him. He suspected that even if Nopal wasn’t too physically weak to roll over in bed, she still wouldn’t be making eye contact. 

Well best to get this over with quickly; an apology to a fairy’s back was better than no apology at all. Exchanging words with an angry Holly was rarely an eye-to-eye scenario, so Artemis was used to it.

“Allow me to apologize-”

“ _ I’m sorry _ -”

Nopal more-or-less blurted her apology out, whereas Artemis was a bit more deliberate. He cocked an eyebrow in surprise, more interested in what Nopal had to say and not at all simply putting off having to actually apologize. Nopal for her part seemed to go rigid at the fact that they interrupted each other.

They stayed like that for a while, waiting for one another to say something. Eventually, figuring they could remain silent for hours and that would be an unacceptable waste of time, Artemis opened his mouth to speak. 

“Nopal-”

It was at this point that Nopal gathered enough strength to roll over, meeting his eyes resolutely.

_ Ah well, just go on and interrupt me _ , Artemis thought.

“I did a wrong thing.”

Artemis said nothing, but that was because there just wasn’t really any way to respond to that observation. 

“I did some thinking. I don’t have a lot of experience in anything and I don’t know that much. What I do know for sure is that you and Holly are important to me.”

Nopal seemed to gain some strength, sliding herself against the sheets and onto a ramp of pillows behind her until she was nearly sitting up. The effort showed on her face, but she continued talking in between pants.

“And because you’re Holly and… you, that means you’re kind. Very kind. Even if I called you a name you didn’t like, you would not berate Nopal, nor do any of the things that Nopal suggested. But I watched your face very closely, so I could see that I was wrong. Still, I shouldn’t have cried since that was an unnecessary burden on you. I made a mistake.”

Artemis looked back into her unflinching gaze. But it was just a facade. Nopal’s voice was shaky. She let her lip tremble, she fidgeted, she was blinking rapidly. Not exactly the picture of someone calm. Artemis found that he identified with her to a disturbing degree. 

This was, after all, exactly how he had appeared in front of his father when he was young. 

There was love and affection there, yes, but it was locked behind so many layers of affectations. All the flimsy airs constructed just for the scant approval of his father’s nod. At that point, it was difficult to call it love at all.

He knew the correct move here was to somehow comfort the pixie, but there were so many difficulties in that. Putting aside the deep seed of suspicion that he harbored, he couldn’t comfort her for a more simple reason. He had never learned to. God, where was his compassionate side when he needed it? 

_ Likely out in the Irish forest hunting for a spot to do the Ritual _ , he thought against his involuntarily.

Artemis suddenly felt the conspicuous loss of a certain elfin captain beside him. He tried to imagine what she would do in this position. Hell, she probably would have been able to handle what had happened when Nopal had her raw, unfiltered fears and emotions unmasked by the serum just fine if Artemis wasn’t there. 

But at the same time, Artemis was certain that Holly had never been put into this situation before. She had never stood on a vine-patterned carpet in front of an imposing desk, staring at the only father she knew. She had never been six, standing in an ill-fitting suit and been talked to without a hint of familial love. She had never thought that a salary bonus was the highest form of fatherly approval that she could receive. Holly hadn’t been there, so she couldn’t have known what Artemis wished somebody had said to him then.

Artemis leaned forward, eyes soft and full of understanding. He found it came easier to him than he’d expected. Nopal would have shrunk back, but she was too tired and surprised. Artemis laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, giving her a crooked smile.

“Nopal. You don’t have to be so strong. It’s okay to cry.”

Artemis had never been told that. Butler couldn’t have told him that, and his father certainly hadn’t. But he could tell Nopal. The pixie looked at him, finding the truth in his kindly gaze, before sniffling and beginning to sob. It was a quiet kind of cry, the release of somebody who had been relieved of a thorny burden they had convinced themselves they could carry, and it wracked her shoulder. Teardrops dripped down Nopal’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry Arty,” she blubbered, nose running. “I just wouldn’t know what to do if I had made you mad. I thought that if I couldn’t call you by your name that meant I wouldn’t be able to talk to you at all. I just want to be your friend.”

Artemis kept his hand on the pixie’s shoulder. He found that he still couldn’t completely trust the fairy before him. His skepticism had kept him alive before, but now? He wasn’t sure it was so useful.

But, suspicious as he was, Artemis could at least give Nopal something this small.

“It’s quite alright, Nopal,” he reassured. “Please, call me Arty. It’s short for Artemis. We can be friends.”

“Really?” Nopal hiccuped, not daring to hope.

“Really,” Artemis said gravely, giving the pixie’s shoulder a squeeze. 

He felt like he should have taken the hand off by now, but hey, he was learning. Nopal smiled. The box of truffles that Artemis had brought were left, forgotten on the nightstand. 


	14. Chapter 14

It was late afternoon when Holly came back into the room. She found Artemis sitting on the bed, using one hand to type on a laptop. He was surprisingly quick despite the impediment. In the dying light of dusk, she could just barely make out what was occupying his other hand. Nopal was asleep, slim pixie fingers pinching Artemis’s jacket sleeve. She had surprising grip strength. 

Holly smiled at the scene. Then the smile turned impish. The elf had never gotten one over the stupid mud-boy whenever she had tried, but maybe this time. He was awfully engrossed in whatever he was typing anyway. 

Holly shielded, allowing herself to take advantage of Butler’s tireless work and closed the door silently. If anything, there wasn’t any way that Fowl could even hear her. The breeze was picking up outside, and the grass rustling brought inside the sounds of crickets beginning their performances. Cat-like, she traced her steps carefully on the carpeted floor. The captain felt like a true leonine predator, stalking her brainy and handsome prey—

Shut up, brain.

Holly was close. Nearly enough that she could almost feel the warmth—okay fine, the lukewarm that Artemis radiated—off of his skin. She sucked in her gut and held her breath to steady her shaking. Truly a good application of years of academy training. This was usually the part where he found her. She waited a beat. Then cracked a wicked grin.

_ Gotcha, mud-boy _ .

Now, what to do? Something scary. Couldn’t just shout or something. A fairy had to have some self-respect. Something subtle then. A tap on the shoulder? That was good. Simple and effective. Holly could imagine Artemis whipping around, dumb, watery eyes going wide imaging Nopal rising and tapping him. She reached out.

Then she looked and saw Artemis looking directly at her.  _ No way, I’m _ —

The elf unshielded, a legendary pout blowing out her cherubic cheeks. She had done the whole “ _ no-way-the-mud-people-can’t-see-me-I’m-invisible _ ” song-and-dance too many times by now. This  _ was _ Artemis Fowl. Then, to her surprise, as she returned to the visible spectrum, Artemis  _ started _ . A very disciplined reaction, but he definitely repressed a sound and  _ definitely _ typed something wrong if the rapid deleting was any indication.

Holly quickly replaced her pout, much to Artemis’s dismay, with a wide-cheshire grin. She opened her mouth to say something, but switched to a whisper when Artemis tilted his head to indicate at the sleeping Nopal.

“So,” she asked, voice soft and smug, “thought you saw me coming.”

“Please, Holly,” he responded in the same whisper, “I knew you were in the room. I saw the door open, I’m not an amateur.”

“You kind of looked like one, just now.”

“Well, you’ll notice that I simply waited until what I felt like would be an appropriate time for you to decide how best to scare me, and merely looked at where I estimated you to be.”

“Still surprised you.”

“Well yes, but I think I should receive more credit for so accurately tracking you through the room. Call it a tie.”

“You got lucky, Fowl.”

“I prefer to think that I simply know you exceedingly well.”

“Oh yeah? You think you know me, Arty?” she challenged, her voice coming out huskier than she’d wanted.

“I think I do,” Artemis responded, leaning in the slightest fraction.

Holly regretted what she said about his lukewarm skin, because right now it was definitely not. Or maybe that was just her. To diffuse the situation, she pulled several plexiglass containers filled with soil and dropped them in Artemis’s lap. He didn’t exactly have a free hand to deal with them and they were somewhat covered in dirt, so Holly received a thoroughly unamused look.

Holly shot back a sunny, unabashed smile, so he forgave her quickly.

“Did they work?” he asked, typing into his laptop. This was important data. “We generally have them picked every full moon to refresh our supply, but I was indisposed for the past six months or so.”

Holly nodded, then wiggled her hand, equivocating the middling success of some of the staler acorns.

“I’m surprised they worked at all, to be honest. I think the whole ancient fairy magic figured out we were cheating. I went through two acorns before I even got one that gave me any juice. And then I buried another three just to get a full tank. I swear, I feel like the sparks were giving me lip.” She frowned at the memory. Definitely wasn’t going to do that outside of an emergency again. She shrugged. Ah well, she had those often enough. Holly continued complaining.

“To top it all off, burying all those acorns made me look like a squirrel. I think I got cussed-out by an actual squirrel.”

“I’m sure you made for a lovely squirrel.”

“Thanks, mud-boy. You tell that to all the pretty elves that walk in here?”

“No, though I occasionally have a difficult time telling between the manor squirrels and Beckett.”

Holly chuckled, lightly punching Artemis on the shoulder. He smiled too, finally closing his laptop and setting it aside. The elf scooted his laptop, much to his indignation, and sat down besides him. She made sure to sit down carefully. Wouldn’t wanna wake up a sleeping pixie. Speaking of.

“So,” she began, looking pointedly at Nopal’s death grip on Artemis’s sleeves, “how’d that go?”

“Surprisingly well. I made sure she was fed and watered before she fell asleep. I had initially brought some chocolates and consigned myself to simple bribery, but I think that I managed to connect with Nopal. She reminds me of myself in some ways.”

Holly frowned incredulously, looking at him.

“Seriously? In what way?”

“Several ways. I’d like to sort them out myself first, but I’ll discuss them at length with you at a better time.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m holding you to that, though. I seriously wanna know what you think you hold in common with a vat-grown Opal clone.”

Artemis pursed his lips at that. He glanced back briefly at the small digits pulling him back towards the peacefully sleeping pixie.

“Holly, can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What will you do if hypothetically Nopal were to be revealed as Opal Koboi?”

Holly sucked in a breath, brow furrowing, Eventually she came to a decision, nodding to herself.

“I’d probably kill her.”

Artemis gulped.

“Really?”

“Really really,” she nodded. Then she continued, a bit more slowly, choosing her words very deliberately. “It... would probably be a heat of the moment thing. I mean, it’s at the point where if I need to do what needs to be doing, then I’m not exactly going to lose any sleep over it. Frond knows that Butler’s been itching to do it since the whole B’wa Kell thing.”

Artemis nodded, a bit more numbly. How far he was from when he had first met Holly. That person would have likely had Nopal killed without a second thought. Now it was the battle-hardened but kind LEPrecon he had first kidnapped who was voicing the thought. She hadn’t even wanted a troll killed. Granted, Opal Koboi was a few steps upwards in malice to a troll. And yet the thought of having her killed made Artemis blanch at the very suggestion. 

Maybe this whole growing a conscience thing was getting to him. 

“Hey Arty, you better not be questioning your being a halfway-decent person now,” she teased, poking him in the chest. “It was a pain to get you where you are, so don’t go throwing away all my hard work.”

“How on earth did you know what I was thinking?” asked Artemis, a mite dumbfounded.

“Pfft. Don’t think you’re the only person who can read someone. This knowing each other thing? It goes both ways, you know?”

“Of course, Holly. It never does pay to underestimate you, does it captain?”

“And don’t you forget it, Fowl,” she said, looking up at him.

“I don’t think at any time soon I shall,” he smiled, meeting her gaze.

They looked into each other’s eyes, the long shadows of dusk making it difficult to make out much of anything. It was quite comfortable.

“I believe,” Artemis finally said, softly so as to not break the moment too soon, “that we should prepare to heal Nopal, so she can at least walk around.”

“Yeah, but we should probably get Butler in the room for this.”

“I doubt he’d be entirely happy if we gave Nopal back her ability to escape without his knowledge.”

“He gets a little touchy about that.”

“I will elect not to tell him that you removed Nopal’s restraints without consulting either of us,” Artemis offered, tone gracious.

“Oh, stuff it, mud-boy,” Holly retorted. “You know you deserved it.”

“Debatable. Shall we?”

“Sure thing, Arty.”

The pair made to get up. However, as Artemis gently pulled his sleeve away, Nopal’s grip tightened. She made a small groan in her sleep, unconsciously turning to face the couple. They stared at her unsettled sleeping face, pale cheeks softly lit by a fading purple sunset.

“I suppose we can wait until Nopal awakens to find Butler.”

“You’re getting soft, Fowl.”


	15. Chapter 15

By the time Butler was summoned, it was well into the evening. The manservant had turned the lights on as he walked in, silently thanking whatever deity was around that the manor generators were still working. Apparently Artemis had switched out the old diesel ones in favor of some experimental design that would be theoretically capable of indefinite electricity generation in the event that Fowl Manor would be cut off from the grid. When Butler had asked his charge if it was nuclear, he had just smiled.

The bodyguard found Nopal, notably outside of her straitjacket, being fawned over by Holly. She was running a hand through the other fairy’s long black hair, much to the pixie's delight.

“Arty, I don’t know about you, but either your shampoo is magic, or Nopal’s hair is just the  _ best _ .”

“Am I silky?” Nopal asked, luxuriating in the attention. 

“Are you kidding me? I’d  _ kill _ to get my hair like this.”

Nopal looked at Artemis, eyes wide. He suspected if she could, the pixie would have raised her hands to defend her scalp.

“Is Holly going to kill me and steal my head?” she asked in alarm.

“I somehow doubt it,” he said, watching as Butler took a position beside the door, hands folded in front of him. He looked like a vigilant Easter Island statue, only slightly more imposing.

“Hey, Butler,” Holly greeted casually. “Whatcha doing all the way over there? You can get closer, you know?”

“I believe I shall remain where I am.”

Artemis saw the skepticism peeking out from the stoic exterior. He had learned Butler’s emotions to an extent, but it’s not as if the man-mountain had ever endeavored to hide anything from his young charge. Now? Artemis got the feeling that his guardian would prefer anything else to allowing his charge to be healing what appeared to be Opal Koboi.

Holly caught the gazes between the two and grimaced in turn. There was always a specter of the entire affair crashing down around her pointy ears. While Butler was indisputably a huge softie, he was also first and foremost, a professional of the highest degree. She wasn’t quite sure what could be ultimately done to assuage his concerns. The dampening mood spared only Nopal, who was now counting strands of Holly’s auburn hair. She was up to 63,213.

The elf captain tried to jovially dispel the tension, clapping her hands together.

“Alright,” she began, a little forced perkiness in her voice, “so I’ve never done a magical surgery on this scale, but helping muscles develop should probably be something I can do. Maybe also kickstart the organs as well just to make sure they don’t fail on us.”

“Wait,” Artemis broke in. “You’ve never done this before? I was under the impression magical surgeries required a degree of some sort.”

“I’ve had some first aid training.”

“How many hours, pray tell?”

“... four?”

Butler snorted. How many of those hours was Holly  _ awake _ for was the real question.

“Look, Dr. Mud-man,” the captain snapped. “I know magic at the very least, because last I checked, I’m the only one around here with pointy ears—”

“I’ve got pointy ears,” Nopal helpfully chimed in.

“Yes, thank you,” Holly said to the beaming pixie before turning back to the unbearably smug mud-boy. “Point being, I’m sure the benefits will outweigh the risks, alright?”

Artemis raised his hands in mock-surrender. He checked behind him, meeting Butler’s slight glower before the Eurasian man smoothed it away into a stoic poker face. Artemis rubbed the back of his head in an unusually unprofessional gesture. 

_ I’ve definitely broken that promise with Butler, haven’t I? _

Whatever this could be called, it would definitely be filed under the category of “adventure.” There was risk here certainly, but he felt that if he didn’t at least try healing Nopal, the guilt would gnaw at him from the inside.

“Butler,” he tried, “surely this isn’t too much of a danger. After all, even if she springs up with her full strength, she is a pixie in a room with three very dangerous people.”

“Well, two physically dangerous people, and one cross-the-street-when-you-see-him kind of dangerous person,” Holly quipped.

“Charming, thank you for that. Ah, Butler?”

The man-mountain sighed. It sounded like someone threw a sack of rocks into a blender.

“Very well, Artemis. I just ask that you not treat this so frivolously.”

Holly and Artemis both nodded. Each one of them felt as if they were being singled out and scolded, which was wrong. Butler definitely meant both of them.

The elf ran another hand through Nopal’s hair. She cooed, not really understanding or paying attention to the other’s banter. Of course, the dip in mood was somewhat noticeable to her, but Nopal figured that if she simply continued smiling, everything would be less somber. So she did.

Holly chuckled a little looking at her, then glanced over to Artemis.

“Yeah, Butler’s a worrywart, but y’know,” she shrugged, looking serious, “she still might be…” She left the name unspoken.  _ Opal Koboi _ . Artemis nodded gravely. Holly broke into an impish smile. “But I still want to see her run around, so let’s get that out of the way first.”

The elf turned to Nopal.

“Alright, I’m going to see if I can’t heal your muscles to the point where you can walk. That sound good, Nopal?”

The pixie didn’t look like she really understood, but nodded, giving her confused assent anyways. Not being able to move around really wasn’t all that much of an impediment to her. Holly checked over her shoulder, making sure Butler was in a good spot—it was hard to notice, but he had a hand on his gun—and looked back at Nopal. Finally, she put her hands over the pixie’s chest.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered. “Heal.” She expected a flurry of sparks to burst out from her hand into the other fairy’s body. Maybe some fireworks, but simple enough. Except, that wasn’t quite what happened. 

When was it ever simple with Opal?

In one of the singularly most unpleasant feelings she had ever felt in her life, ranking among getting dunked into magical animal fat, she had her magic  _ pulled _ out of her. Holly felt the magic coalescing into her arm on its way into Nopal. But suddenly, as if it were a putty being sucked through a too-small hole, the entire morass of magic sludge was painfully strained out of her fingertips and swallowed into Nopal’s chest. She sucked in her gut, tensing every muscle in her body as her breath failed her for several seconds. Sparks flashed before her eyes, and Holly collapsed.

Several things happened then. 

First, Artemis reached out and caught Holly before she went over the edge of the bed. Her skin was clammy and sweaty. He was caught between the elation of cradling her small frame and the nauseous pit of anxious energy of wondering what happened.

The magic that Nopal received from Holly seemed displeased. The pixie’s entire form was bucking as a nervous corona of blue light surrounded her. She was shuddering up and down, and her eye’s had rolled to the back of her head. Sparks flew and steam billowed out from who knows where. Whatever was happening to her, it looked quite painful.

Lastly, Butler had smoothly drawn his handgun and was squarely aiming at the pixie. Artemis caught the motion and his eyes widened. But should he tell him to stop? What if this was the correct thing to do?

Holly also saw, having much less indecision. She finally managed to take in a shuddering breath, calling out to the bodyguard.

“Wait,” she said in between coughs, “I’m fine! I’m fine! It’s probably just a side effect of the healing!”

Butler gave her a side eye that didn’t look at all convinced, but he managed not to ventilate Nopal’s head right then and there. He made no move to holster his gun, however.

Eventually, the trio watched anxiously as the tremors began to subside around Nopal and the light began to fade. Before, the flashing had obscured the small pixie’s form, but now that it faded, they could see that some muscle had been put onto Nopal’s frame. In addition, the color of her cheeks previously had been an unhealthy ivory pallor, but now looked to have a rosy flush. No one said anything as Nopal’s body began to twitch and flail around as her body unconsciously ran a diagnostics check, ensuring that everything was moving.

“I think you punched me in the face when you received a healing like that once,” Artemis muttered, fascinated by the effects of the magic.

“Wasn’t the healing, Fowl,” Holly said, clutching her now pounding head. “I just wanted to punch you in the face.”

Artemis nodded. That was fair.

“Nopal’s body strikes me as odd,” he suddenly said.

“Hm? Why?”

“The musculature is different from the Opal we knew,” Artemis observed. “And I believe there are more subtle differences which on the whole preserve her original appearance, but undoubtedly make her more physically fit than before. Look at her legs, they’re longer now than they were. Not overly so, but enough to make running much more efficient.”

Holly grimaced, seeing the changes he pointed out.

“You don’t think Opal enhanced the clone body subtly for her own ego, do you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

If Holly weren’t in some multi-billion dollar manor, she would have turned her head and spat. Genetically modifying a clone of yourself for  _ appearance's _ sake.  _ Disgusting _ .

Breaking into their thoughts, Nopal’s eyes finally fluttered open. They watched, nobody daring to say a word. Then the pixie sat bolt upright, incredible abdominal muscles being put to work. She was flushed and breathing hard as if she had just run a marathon. Slowly, Nopal raised her hands to her face. Then she cupped her cheeks and smiled a big dumb smile.

“Hehe,” she giggled. “Holly, I feel weird.”

The tension in the room dropped a notch. Butler still didn’t put away his gun, but he lowered it.

“Glad to hear it, Nopal,” Holly groaned. “Whewf, just got one hell of a headache. I think I’m going to lie down for a while.”

Without saying a word, a suddenly concerned pixie swooped over and plucked Holly out from Artemis’s arms. The elf couldn’t so much as yelp before surprisingly toned arms swept her up and placed her flat on the bed. She then promptly had the sheets pulled over her and had her head petted. Nopal was  _ strong _ .

Nopal looked quite proud of herself, humming herself a little tune. Then she noticed the miffed and slack-jawed look on Artemis’s face. Holly dug herself out from under the decidedly comfortable sheets and wore a similar expression. The pixie wilted a little bit under the scrutiny.

“Sorry?” she squeaked.

Artemis broke out of the reverie first. He gave Nopal a stern look while simultaneously crawling over to Holly’ side, undermining the whole veneer of seriousness. Once he reached the tucked-in elf, he gave her a once-over, ensuring that there was nothing noticeably wrong with her. The genius worried over her, feeling for her pulse. In most situations, Holly would object to being manhandled twice, but since these were Artemis’s long, piano fingers, she’d let it slide.

“Are you still injured?”

“It’s a  _ headache _ , Fowl,” she said, swatting him away, “go see what Nopal’s up to.”

Indeed, what Nopal was up to was standing up unassisted. This was  _ fun _ . The pixie walked along the edge of the bed with the grace of a ballerina and then hopped off of the mattress. Unfortunately, it was all so new, so her coordination was lacking in some areas. Walking she could theoretically figure out from observing, but nobody had really  _ jumped _ in front of her.

The pixie’s delicate forehead made contact with the carpeted floor. Artemis looked over with some concern. Even Butler looked vaguely like he wanted to walk over and help the pixie up. However, with some scrabbling motions, the pixie crawled her way back to her feet. She had a slightly swelling red bump on her forehead and it hurt a little, but that wasn’t what was important. What was important was that she could  _ run _ .

“Arty, Arty,” Nopal called excitedly. “Can I run?”

“Theoretically, that is very possible,” he drily remarked.

Holly groaned and punched him in the shoulder.

Artemis caught Butler’s eye. Was this going to be an issue? The manservant understood the unspoken question and shook his head.

“I can hit a moving target,” he graveled.

Artemis saw this as mildly concerning, but Nopal took it as the permission she desperately craved. With a whoop, she began running. And running. The room was large, certainly, but the circuits that Nopal was doing around the bed had Artemis regretting giving her the go-ahead. On one hand, her form was impeccable. It was like watching an Olympic sprinter running at the top of their game. On the other hand, she was pulling such tight circuits around some of the furniture that Artemis knew exactly what was going to happen. He was glad that there were no expensive vases or glassware in this room to break. Eventually, it happened.

Nopal nicked a corner of the bed frame, and her face, tight with the joy and concentration of putting everything into running, broke into confusion. She was suddenly flying in a tangle of limbs, all balance forgotten. This probably was not good, she decided, before slamming into a dresser beside Butler’s leg. There was a crash, and then stars in Nopal’s vision.

“Frond, what was that, Arty?” Holly asked, eyes closed in an attempt to abate the vicious migraine she was suffering.

“Something that I wish was recorded, Holly,” Artemis responded, chuckling to himself.

Butler looked down at the dizzy pile of pixie by his foot and snorted. He could agree with his charge on that.


	16. Chapter 16

Artemis was still intrigued with the physical changes to Nopal’s body. The musculature that she had suddenly grown as a result of Holly’s magical healing, if anything, undersold the impressive amount of strength the pixie had gained. Artemis suspected that Nopal’s muscles and bones were unnaturally dense, affecting her strength and weight. However, short of strapping her to a medical table and cutting her open, he had no way of knowing exactly what modifications Opal had engineered into her clone body. She had likely done it on a whim too, or else it would be likely that Nopal would also be able to shoot lightning bolts from her eyes or something similarly absurd.

Luckily for the both of them, Nopal was “only” absurdly athletic. After ensuring that she was probably no harm to him, Artemis entrusted the migraine-ridden Holly to Butler while he worked on the next step of the plan to get to space. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

Before him, in the deep, forgotten depths of his workshop, sat a block of metal, wire, and chrome. It was a ham radio, and it was  _ old _ . How old exactly, Artemis wasn’t entirely sure, but when he had first unearthed it, he found a bullet with rifling that was consistent with firearms manufactured during the Great War. 

While Artemis was grimacing at the metal monstrosity, Nopal was flexing her fingers. It was fascinating that she could do that! She had the inkling that maybe she could do a cartwheel next. The pixie glanced around briefly at her surroundings and decided against it. Crashing into a pile of rusty screwdrivers and bolts seemed like an unfun way to spend her time.

Then she saw Artemis wrap his arms around the metal monstrosity in a clear attempt to lift the thing. He succeeded in budging it several inches, but not very much beyond that. After a while, Artemis conceded his defeat and was about to call Butler. Nopal smiled. She could help! 

“Arty, let me try,” she chirped. Her tiny stature bumped past the despondent human and gripped the radio. She was having a difficult time reaching the device, as the table was built for taller folk in mind, but slowly and surely, she managed to lug the hunk of metal off of the table. For a brief second, Artemis had the horrible image in his mind that Nopal was going to carry the thing above her head and have it crash down on her with less than pretty results. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. 

Arms slightly wobbling, Nopal managed to press the device above her head. She had a triumphant smile on her face that Artemis couldn’t help but return. Her enthusiasm really was infectious. Then she took a step forward and dangerously tottered. Artemis managed to rush in and stabilize it at the last second, but even ensuring it stayed where it was pushing him to his physical limits. 

_ Butler, I swear that I will do all the exercise that you ask of me after this _ , Artemis told himself for perhaps the seventh time in so many hours. Out loud all he did was grunt rather uncouthly and hope that it conveyed his sense of dismay with the current predicament.

“This is  _ fun _ ,” giggled Nopal, from somewhere below the radio.

“Are you certain that we shouldn’t call Butler over to assist?” Artemis managed to gasp out in response.

“Nope. Big man is scary. Besides, Nopal is very strong. Just keep the funny metal block steady.”

“We have to go up several flights of stairs.”

“Yay!” Nopal cheered, beginning to move towards the door. The radio  _ lurched _ and Artemis cursed himself and whatever cro-magnons were developing 1920’s radio technology that doubled as bludgeoning weapons.

“Yay,” he echoed with markedly less enthusiasm.

—

Gasping and panting, the pair finally made it to the top floor of the manor. That is to say, the top not including the attic, but Artemis had no desire to spend even  _ more _ time finding the ladder and humping the decrepit piece of metal further still. Even Nopal was winded after the trek.

“Arty,” she moaned. “My arms are jelly.”

Artemis had to agree, and he hadn’t even done any of the hard work. Furthermore, he was deeply concerned about dropping the metal brick on some antique chestnut table top. Luckily, among the venerable halls of Fowl Manor, there were some pockets of modernity where he could dent a plastic table with little guilt. This cozy little office space, for instance. It had a stone porch overlooking the grounds outside, but otherwise was the very picture of a clerical space one would do their taxes in. The intrepid duo had set their ancient radio on a very modern off-white plastic table that even had little wheels, a feature that Artemis had nearly broken down and wept upon seeing. 

“Alright, Nopal, I’ll wheel this out onto the balcony,” Artemis said, making sure the device was still in working condition. By some miracle it was.

“Wait,” Nopal panted, lying on the carpet, “I’ll come with. Just—just give me breathing time.”

Artemis nodded in response, checking his wristwatch. Well they had several minutes before their window of time opened up anyways. Once Nopal had finished gasping, they briskly wheeled the contraption outside, opening up the delicate glass windows. Artemis nearly slipped to death on the smooth stone outside, but Nopal caught him before he could gain a matching welt on his forehead.

_ Someone should really fix that. _

Whether he was talking about the worn down masonry or his own miserable coordination was anyone’s guess. 

Once Nopal had ensured that Artemis was capable of standing on his two feet, she finally glanced at her surroundings. 

And abruptly stopped. 

Her mouth hung open as the pixie stared off into the distance. Following her gaze, Artemis found the Irish night sky blinking playfully at him, crowded with as many celestial bodies he had ever seen it. Since light pollution had all but stopped for the past day or so, the night sky was once again lit only by a full moon and a splattering of Milky Way stars.

Nopal’s eyes twinkled, the chocolate scleras filled to the brim with all the sparkling jewels of the night sky. To the pixie, the dome of heaven was the most beautiful sight that she had ever seen. Artemis, despite himself, couldn’t help but smile at the display of naked wonder.

“Do you like the view, Nopal?” he asked, breaking her enchantment for a second.

“Yes. When I saw the stars the other day, they were fading into the day. But now…” she trailed off, gesturing at it all. “ _ Look at them! _ ”

Look at them, indeed. Artemis took the pixie’s advice and found himself relaxing. He hadn’t seriously looked at the stars in quite some time, not outside of strictly astronomical endeavours anyways. But now that he was absorbed by it all, he could forget for a second that the world had nearly been in grave peril as a result of the pixie next to him.

“I want them all.”

And sometimes he couldn’t help but remember. Artemis looked at Nopal, an eyebrow quirked. The pixie met his questioning gaze and smiled.

“I want them all,” Nopal repeated, as if that explained everything.

“Why would you want that?” Artemis asked, a hint of apprehension entering his voice.

In response, Nopal returned her eyes to the motes of light in the night sky and spread her arms wide, as if to hug all of it fiercely to her chest.

“Because I thought they were beautiful when I first saw them. And now that I can touch them, maybe I can take them.” 

She turned back to Artemis, her smile somewhere between gentle and savage. The look of a fairy with a singular goal and only love in her heart. Artemis took a step back.

“Then I can give them to you and Holly!” she finished sweetly.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Artemis found the box of truffles in his coat pocket, and pushed it further in. He could let Holly give the chocolates to Nopal for him.

Artemis didn’t know if he could give them to Opal.

—

After some minutes had passed, it was time. Artemis spotted a bright white dot appear on the horizon, zipping through the sky. However, instead of blinking like a plane, it was quite steady. 

“Arty?”

“Yes, Nopal?”

“What is this old metal box? And what are you going to do with it?”

“It’s a ham radio,” Artemis explained, a touch conflicted about how much he really wanted to explain to Nopal. “I will be using it to contact the astronauts aboard the International Space Station. Their frequency is public knowledge, so I simply have to hope that they are monitoring their radios and that they are working.”

Nopal nodded seriously. Then she frowned, peering at the metallic box sitting on the table. Was this really even technology? She poked at it, examined it from every angle, and even gave it a cursory lick. It tasted like rust and oil. Licking it wasn’t strictly necessary to tell how the machine worked, but she wanted to give it a try anyways. A bemused Artemis stood beside her, fiddling with the controls.

“Arty?” she asked, more than a little skeptical. “Are you sure this can transmit into space?”

In response, Artemis turned on several dials and flipped some switches. The ancient thing roared to life, crackling and buzzing as it scanned through frequencies. Nopal jumped back, wary of the whining machine. There was the ghost of a smug smile on Artemis's lips.

“There’s quite a lot to be said about human ingenuity, Nopal. For example, even though this device is nearing a century old, it’s still quite functional. It may well be the sole device that we can use to communicate with the astronauts.”

Nopal nodded, considering this. That made sense. Useful things do a thing that nobody else can. The pixie cautiously reached out and pet the radio.

“Good ham,” she praised. 

Artemis snorted, shaking his head. Finally, he found the correct frequency. The radio blared to life, treating the two to the harsh sounds of klaxons and a high-pitched distress signal.

“—on revolving frequencies,” came a deep voice with a distinctly southern twang. “I repeat, the International Space Station is reporting multiple module failures, full extent of damage unknown. We have three crewmen remaining on board with limited oxygen, food, and water. Requesting extraction.”

Artemis stared at the radio grimly, before bringing a rather old mic to his mouth.

“International Space Station, this is Ireland acknowledging your distress call.”

The voice on the other end paused, as if in disbelief. Artemis and Nopal heard multiple voices start overlapping before the radioman finally responded.

“Good god, Ireland? Is that the ESA? We had just about given up hope up here.”

“I’m afraid not,” Artemis answered, grimacing. “I am a private citizen and not representing any space agency.”

“Oh.” Artemis could feel the hope curling up and dying in that one word. Nevertheless, there was already precious little time to be wasted, so he had to press on.

“However—and I wish to stress that this is no certain thing—I am an individual of considerable resources and there is a potential we may be able to launch a rescue operation for you and your crew.”

“Are you pulling some kind of prank on me?” Despite the disbelieving words, Artemis could feel a spark of desperation leak into the man’s tone.

“I’m afraid I am deadly serious, Mr. Cavanaugh.”

“How do—alright, that’s not important, it’s public knowledge anyways. But do you know what happened? All the communications are down and half the satellites up here are falling out of orbit.”

“Some kind of mass microprocessor failure,” Artemis lied. “The reason is unknown at the moment. Perhaps an EMP. Nevertheless, there is little time to speculate. Your radio is using energy that should be conserved and there is only a small window for us to continue talking anyways. I need to know how long your supplies will last you and whether or not the Soyuz escape craft is operational or not.”

There was silence over the end as the astronauts silently took stock of their supplies. Nopal watched Artemis fingers twitch unconsciously, playing a piano concerto that only he could see. What the pixie saw was a rhythm game, and she tried matching. She was close, but she felt like she was just a note or two behind. Man, where had Arty been hiding  _ these _ rhythm games?

Nopal eventually gave up and put her hands directly over Artemis’ in an effort to match them closer. This broke his concentration, and he had hardly given Nopal a peeved glare before the radio crackled to life again.

“Alright. If you’re not crazy and can actually do something about this fine mess we’re stuck in, then don’t take more than two weeks. Two-and-a-half if we’re real lucky. As for the Soyuz capsule, she’s working, but all her navigational equipment is fried. I think the propulsion is kaput too.”

“Excellent. If an emergency occurs I will be monitoring this frequency but I advise that you shut off all non-essential electronics. I wish you luck.”

The astronaut coughed.

“Look, mister,” he said seriously, “I don’t know who or what I’m putting my faith in, but if it means you gotta risk your neck for us up here, don’t. I don’t want you to get killed on our accounts. We knew the risks coming up here.”

“I believe that we’re capable of a rescue.”

“You sound damn certain.”

“That’s because he’s Arty,” Nopal chimed in. Artemis gave her an aggrieved look.

“Is that a little girl? Well, whatever, we’re almost out of range,” the radio began to crackle, breaking up. “Godspeed. ISS out.”

The sound of radio static rushed from the radio one last time before it gave out. Then it was silent. Artemis took a deep breath, the night air cool in his lungs. Two weeks to get into space, dock with the ISS, and rescue the astronauts. Simple.

“Arty,” asked Nopal, breaking into his thoughts, “are we going into space?”

“Yes, we are.”

“Can I take some stars while we’re there?”

Artemis, at first somewhat annoyed with Nopal’s antics throughout the conversation, felt a twinge of amusement. He had mistaken it for Opal’s megalomania at first, that desire for dominion over the impossible. But the child-like amazement in that tone wasn’t quite that. Hadn’t he wanted the stars when he was a child, but only given up when he found out that it was impossible? But then again, fairies were impossible. Hesitantly, Artemis reached out and put a hand on Nopal’s shoulder.

Were Holly here, she would have guffawed at Artemis's weak attempt at physical affection. A hypothetical Artemis would have simply pointed out that it was much more sanitary and professional than a hug or ruffling of one’s hair, but hypothetical Artemis also knew that it was a flimsy argument and desisted.

“If you find any while we’re working, you are free to take them.”

Nopal smiled and pumped her fists into the air. If any of the stars had heard this exchange, they would likely be quite worried. 


	17. Chapter 17

Artemis and Nopal broke off for the night. Due to Artemis’s admittedly lacking teamwork skills, he had no duties to delegate to the pixie at the moment. 

Thus, the pixie was released to do whatever she pleased. 

Butler was doing regular check-ins on the fairy of course, but otherwise she was on her own. It was certainly a novel experience. Making choices for herself. When had she ever done that? Well, now was as good a time as any. Since Artemis seemed to have expressed a desire to be alone, that left only one option: Holly.

The pixie wandered through the halls of Fowl Manor, walking along much the same path that a certain elfin LEPrecon captain had many years ago. She didn’t really have an idea of where Holly was, so Nopal just let her feet take her through the empty mansion. It wasn’t quite as cold as it was back then, as little bits of color had come and snuck into the decor. A gaudy scarf draped over a stylish hat-rack belonging to the senior Fowls, a carelessly thrown orange sock which belonged to Beckett, or a crawling mouse-drone built by Myles. The machine squeaked and skittered away from the pixie as she approached it. It looked like it was built quite well, and it was, managing to escape even from its owner.

Nopal came across a long hallway, hung with the portraits of a long, unbroken line of Fowls. They all had the same piercing blue eyes that Artemis and Holly shared. Did that mean they were both half-Fowls? A question for the elf then.

Eventually, the pixie’s meandering paid off, and she spotted Holly standing by an open window. She was strapping something to her back, glancing longingly outside the window. A breeze fluttered in, disturbing the curtains enough that Nopal was able to make out a curious wing design that the elf was wearing. Holly glanced over, noticing she was being watched, and gave the pixie a warm smile.

“Hey, Nopal. I was just about to go take one of Arty’s prototype wing sets for a spin. Interested?” Holly gave Nopal a little turn, showing off the folded-up wing-rig. It appeared to be two bat wings collapsed atop the other with a small glowing orange core where a petrol engine used to sit. Retrofitted possibly?

“What is it?” Nopal asked, bending over so she could examine it more closely. Then the wings unfurled as Holly tapped something into her helmet, the full glory of its wingspan unveiling with a loud  _ fwumph _ . Nopal squeaked and jumped backwards, much to Holly’s amusement.

“It’s something that Arty whipped up from the old Dragonflies that him and the big man confiscated during the siege. He’s unoriginal, so he calls them Dragons.”

Nopal could see that now. No, they certainly weren’t bat wings, they were  _ dragon  _ wings. Even the membranes between “fingers” had that same soft orange glow. Artemis certainly didn’t cheap out on style. Holly refolded her wings, the rig somehow collapsing the massive wingspan into an innocuous brown casing, reminiscent of a beetle or an egg. She looked at Nopal as if deciding something before she came to a decision.

“Arty’s got _ two _ of these laying around. So, wanna join me and take them for a spin?”

Holly hefted a second pack, dangling it in front of Nopal. The pixies eyes went wide, glancing between the wings and Holly disbelieivingly.

“Can I really?”

“Sure you can.” Holly narrowed her eyes at Nopal. She was reluctant to say no to the clearly elated pixie, but safety first. “Do you know how to fly?”

Nobody ever accused Holly of being the most attentive student while at the academy, but her hours spent flying and flying scores spoke for themselves. She wasn’t about to let just any civilian grab a pair of wings and crash and burn horribly. Nopal had a strange far-off look for a second, looking at the set of wings in her hands. Then they sharpened and she gave Holly a self-assured look.

“Of course I do. I’ve built better.”

Then, before Holly could say so much as a word, Nopal ran past her and leapt from the window. At the apex of her jump, just as she began to fall, her wings snapped open and a throttle blasted open, spewing an orange flow. The engine  _ roared _ in a sound that was suspiciously reminiscent of a dragon, and the pixie blasted towards the ground at a dangerous speed. At the last second, the pixie pulled up and soared into the night sky. After doing some more dizzying acrobatics, she returned to the window, hovering. Nopal looked exhilarated, her eyes wide and a big, silly grin plastered across her face.

Holly decided to file away the “ _ I’ve built better _ ” comment for later. It could mean a lot of things, but that imperiousness surfacing did not bode well. However, right now, she had a pixie she needed to show up. She returned Nopal’s cocky grin with an unimpressed one of her own.

“Alright, pixie you’ve got some moves,” she admitted. “But have you ever heard of ‘core diving,’ Nopal?”

The pixie shook her head in response.

“I’ve got the current LEP record. Let me show you how I got it.”

With that, Holly stepped onto the ledge and unfurled her wings. They beat several times before she was gently lifted into the air, floating to the same level as Nopal. The clone, a little confused, cocked her head. Then Holly threw open her throttles and shot into the sky. After a moment of consternation, Nopal hastily followed. The two fairies flew high enough where it became quite chilly. Luckily for Nopal, who was not wearing an LEP jumpsuit and helmet, Artemis seemed to have accounted for that, the wings and the rig offering quite a bit of warmth for her.

Holly was flying at a devilishly fast pace, the Irish countryside whipping by beneath them.

“Whooo!” she whooped. Arty really did have her tastes pinned down. This was  _ absurdly _ fast. Completely against regulations of course, but who read those? Certainly not this elf.

She heard Nopal just behind her, the Dragon’s wings flapping and the engines roaring to catch up. That was fine, they had just about reached the coast. Now for some  _ real  _ tricks.

Surprising Nopal, Holly suddenly snapped her wings shut, angling herself downwards towards the ocean like an elfin missile. Nopal confusedly chased after her, not quite trusting herself to freefall like Holly. The pixie could see the look on the captain’s face. A daredevil’s rictus of a smile. Holly caught her look and winked over her shoulder at Nopal.

Nopal kept following Holly until the pixie was a mere five yards from the churning waves below. She pulled up hard, launching herself back into the relative safety of the sky. Holly didn’t. She waited until she could nearly feel the spray on her face before she twisted, angling her throttle towards the dark blue tide, snapping out her wings. The tips of them sliced parallel lines through the whitecaps before the throttle blasted her away from the ocean, leaving a path of steam in her wake. The elf rejoined the plainly amazed pixie in the sky, trailing droplets of water off of her slick helmet surface. She pulled the helmet off, shaking loose her short cropped hair and gave Nopal a smug grin.

“I think I won that one, didn’t I?” she laughed.

Holly was a little flushed from the adrenaline, but Nopal was shivering slightly, not quite as warm.

“Wow,” the pixie managed around chattering teeth. Nopal was impressed, she really was, but nobody had told her the ocean was going to be this  _ cold _ at night. She hugged herself, the gesture being mimicked by her Dragon wings. It made her look like some volcano-dwelling insect in the midst of pupating. Of course, without the wings stabilizing her flight, the whole thing shuddered and fell and Nopal yelped, arms pinwheeling.

Thankfully, Holly was a wingbeat away from the falling pixie and caught her before she fell too far. The elf whistled, impressed. The Dragon had barely even needed to adjust for the pixie and her rig. Funnily enough, Nopal weighed about as much as Artemis did. Frond, how many times had she ended up princess-carrying Artemis during the aftermath of his schemes that she had his weight figured out? What a hopeless damsel in distress.

As for Nopal, once she was safely in Holly’s arms, she hadn’t stopped quite shivering. It was still pretty cold, after all. She began fiddling with her wings, which were still tightly wrapped around her. But the wing’s “fingers” weren’t quite solid struts. They actually seemed like they were some kind of flexible material. She ran her fingers across the leathery wings, searching for something. If only she could find the wire keeping them taut… and there!

The wings collapsed into a flowing blanket of orange and black. Triumphant, Nopal wriggled into the blanket and gave a winning smile to Holly, who returned a similarly amused grin. They peeled off from over the ocean back towards the manor, the salty sea breeze giving them a gentle tailwind. Holly absentmindedly shifted Nopal against her chest so she could free a hand. She then ran said hand through the pixie’s hair, melting the fairy into a drooling mess. 

“Holly,” Nopal murmured through her blissful head-patting, “why does Arty look at me like he’s scared sometimes?”

If Holly were walking, she would have stumbled, missing a step. Instead, the elf simply continued flying in silence. It was almost companionable if not for the spectre of Opal Koboi hanging over the two fairies’ heads. Holly glanced down at Nopal, snugly wrapped in her blanket and looking at the rushing green hills beneath them with glassy eyes.

“Arty is just a little worried,” Holly reassured the pixie. She spoke slowly, searching for the right words. “He’s not afraid of you  _ per se _ . It’s just that… he sees you for somebody that you’re not?”

“Should I be that person?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

Nopal gave a neutral hum of acknowledgement. A gust of wind rustled the endless fields of grass beneath them. They flew the rest of the way back in silence, the only sound the low drone of wings.


	18. Chapter 18

Artemis had figured out a couple of things about working in a group since he was twelve. Initially, the strategy was to come up with everything and trust Butler to do most of the heavy lifting, metaphorical or otherwise. However, as he began to add people to his circle of trust, there was a larger pool of unique talents he could draw upon for any plan. Thus delegation. 

However, with Nopal, it was an entirely different experience. Rather than playing to their individual strengths and covering up their weaknesses, Artemis rather felt the pixie was another Artemis running around. Even better, in some ways. For example, any physical exertion whatsoever.

Artemis had picked up Nopal in her room, waiting for the groggy-eyed pixie to freshen up. Afterwards, they grabbed breakfast and headed out to the crashed shuttle on the greenery. There they began preliminary work on repairing and retrofitting the crashed Silver Cupid. Luckily, the hull was mostly intact; the damage mostly came from Opal’s lightning bolt frying one of the rear thrusters. Coincidentally, the very person who was behind that was now working to repair it.

Nopal proved more than up to the task.

Holly found the two hard at work out in the manor grounds. She had been sparring with Butler early in the morning, which was certainly a way to get exercise. Even if the man-mountain was reaching it up in the years, in his prime he had dueled a troll and won. And the elf was certainly no troll.

Mopping up some of her sweat with a towel, she thought that the two working geniuses cut quite the unusual sight. For one, Artemis had shed his usual suit for a plain white shirt and some overalls. They did absolutely  _ nothing _ for his figure, which was a crying shame. The other strangely dressed figure was Nopal, who was sticking out of a shuttle hatch and covered in grease of some kind. She had an odd contraption in her hand that halfway resembled an omni-tool, a blow torch, and an oversized wrench. The pixie hooked the tool onto something, flicked a switch, and  _ heaved _ . Her muscles strained for a second, before she pried something loose, the metal piece flicking into the air and landing near Artemis.

“Arty, the melted piston’s loose,” she called, voice echoing from wherever hollow she was stuck in.

“I see it,” he replied, picking up a pair of tongs and struggling to lift the hot metal. Holly swaggered over and helped him pick it up, much to his chagrin. 

“Don’t throw your back out, old man,” Holly teased. It  _ was  _ a little heavy, but giving Artemis grief was always the top priority.

Artemis thought about mentioning Holly’s age, but that didn’t really count. Not to mention that he usually avoided thinking about it. Sure, he was mentally well beyond his years, but the lifespans of the fair-folk and humans were a constant source of dismay for him. Instead of bringing that up, he thanked her instead.

“Your help is ever appreciated, Holly.”

He accepted the tongs back gracefully, narrowly averted dropping it, and set it down on the table. He ignored Holly’s stifled giggle. Now if he consulted the schematics, then he’d be able to figure out what the part was and what he’d need to replace. If he _ had _ schematics, that was. He sighed. He’d probably have to ask Foaly.

Interrupting his thoughts was something cold pressed against his cheek. He turned around, and nearly poked his eye on the can. Thankfully, Holly didn’t have his reflexes and pulled the aluminum away at the last second.

“Please, Holly. Retrofitting a damaged shuttle for space travel is difficult enough without being blinded.”

“You were the one that turned,” she pointed out. “Besides, I can always just heal your eyes back to normal. Already did it once.”

“I recall that being a singularly unpleasant experience for you.”

“Sure. But that was different. You getting your eye poked out by a lemonade though?  _ Hysterical _ .”

“Hardy-har,” he deadpanned, gratefully taking the offered drink. It cracked open with a nice hiss. He  _ was _ sweating, and it wasn’t just the sun. In an effort not to be completely useless outside of planning, he had tried to help Nopal lug some parts around. Emphasis on ‘tried.’ After the third turbine blade, he had ended up a gasping mess and the pixie had him sit out the rest of the heavy lifting.

“So how’s Nopal doing?” Holly asked, stealing a sip from Artemis’s can. He was still holding it, and the fairy was making challenging eye-contact while drinking. It was good stuff. Butler canned it himself. Artemis let out a long-suffering sigh before responding.

“She’s superb. With her working, and barring any complications, we should be able to send the shuttle into space well within the time limit.” He took another sip, during which Holly cast an interested look at his lips. “In all honesty, this is one of the only times where I’ve been able to work so effectively with another person. It occasionally feels as if Nopal is a copy of myself.”

Holly cast a meaningful glance at his noodle-thin arms. Artemis followed her gaze and sighed, resigning himself.

“What?” Holly asked, a smug grin on her face. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“In any case,” Artemis said, not willing to get drawn into that conversation, “as strange a sentiment as it is, I am quite glad that Nopal is around.”

“Still worried?”

“It’s Opal Koboi.”

Holly gave a grunt of acknowledgement. Couldn’t really refute that logic. 

“That being said,” Artemis began, pulling something out of his pocket, “I also was meaning to give her this, but couldn’t quite find a time last night.”

“What’s in the box?”

“Truffles,” Artemis said, taking the lid off and showing Holly. She frowned at them.

“Huh. Wasn’t the last time she saw one of those when you had Mulch swap them out for a pair of mining charges?”

“Presumably she enjoyed them before that. In addition, this constitutes a test to see if either any past memories are surfacing or if Opal Koboi’s personality is still present.”

Holly crossed her arms, leaning against Artemis’s work table. She raised a skeptical brow.

“Really, Arty? You’re giving her something that’d make her happy but you’re also using it to test whether she’s still Opal or not?”

Artemis said nothing, setting his jaw slightly.

“Arty,” she said gently, “you jabbed her in the neck with a needle. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’ve observed certain behaviors that have raised some suspicions. I can’t be certain until I have more data, but there’s reasons for concern at least.”

Holly nodded slowly, thinking back to last night’s flying escapade.

“Okay fine, mud-boy. You might have a point. But I’m handing her the lemonade and the truffles, and if she asks who they’re from, it’s you.” 

She looked at the cheerily decorated box and all the ribbons on it. 

“You bashful schoolgirl,” she added.

“I believe you should call for Nopal,” Artemis said, ignoring her jab.

As if summoned, said pixie stuck her head out of the engine like some grease-covered rodent.

“Arty,” she called. “I think I unclogged the main turbine. That should be the last of the parts that got knocked loose.”

“Good work, Nopal. I’ll run an inventory to see if we’re missing any parts. Come down and take a break.”

The pixie looked quite pleased at getting praised, and quickly scrambled down the side of the shuttle. She bounded over the grass coming over to where Artemis and Holly were standing.

“Hi, Holly,” she greeted, glancing inquisitively at the objects in the elf’s hands. She pointed at them. “What are those things?”

“Lemonade from me,” Holly said, tossing the can to Nopal. The pixie caught it smoothly. “Also a box full of truffles from somebody else. Hint: it’s not me.”

“...Arty?” she guessed, shyly looking over at him. 

Artemis threw up his hands in exasperation, glaring at Holly, who was leaning on the table. She was resting her cheek on her hand, returning Artemis’s harsh gaze with unrepentant cheek. He shook his head, returning his attention to Nopal. She was shyly looking at the two gifts in her hands, not quite looking at Artemis. He sighed.

“It’s a reward for your hard work. I believe that your help will be invaluable to accomplishing this endeavour in a timely manner.”

“And I thought you two nerds were going to be thirsty.”

Nopal looked at both of them, staring up and down at her bounty. She had never been  _ given _ anything before. There was an indescribable feeling welling up in her chest that she couldn’t quite place, but it made her want to run over and hug the two of them. But she was also covered in grease, so she got the feeling Arty wouldn’t like that. He was always very clean.

“Thank you,” she said, voice small and as serious as she could muster. The two couldn’t help but smile at that. However, as Nopal made no move to do anything with either the can nor the box, Holly took it upon herself to encourage the pixie. Show her the ropes. 

This wasn’t just an excuse to snatch Artemis’s lemonade, of course. No siree.

The elfin captain then snatched Artemis’s lemonade. The victim rolled his eyes.

“Drink the lemonade first,” Holly advised, in between sips, “it makes the chocolates taste better than the other way around.”

“There’s no scientific evidence for that.”

“I know what I know, Fowl.”

“Give me back my can.”

“Come get it.”

Nopal ignored their bickering. Lemonade first then? She could do that. The mechanism to open it seemed simple enough. Just pull this lever and it pushes in the indentation. She gently pulled it until the tab popped open, much to her surprise. What a sound. Now, how to go about this? She shrugged. May as well go all out.

The pixie tipped the can and attempted to chug the entire can in one go. Unfortunately for the pixe, it was carbonated. Indeed, the lemon-tang was delightful and refreshing, but there was only so much carbonation one can take at the same time. And for the uninitiated, an entire can is generally too much. Before having drunk half of the lemonade, Nopal became very acquainted with the unpleasant sensation of the carbonated liquid fighting its way out of the body via the nose.

“Ungh,” Nopal groaned. The lemonade was aggressive. She put the lemonade can down on the grass, slightly dizzy. Maybe whatever was in the box would help.

She undid the ribbon holding the box closed and took off the lid. Inside, nestled on some comfy looking wax-paper, was a set of high quality dark-chocolate truffles. Just the whiff of the cacao had Nopal salivating. She picked one out, admiring it. And then there was something else. 

Nopal looked up suddenly. She wasn't standing on Fowl Manor beside a large crashed shuttle anymore. Beneath her feet was the utilitarian floor of a stealth shuttle. In front of her, at the ship's controls were two twin pixies. The Brill brothers. Why was she here? Nopal was still holding the truffles but was entirely too confused to pop it into her mouth.

She looked out the quartz windshield of the shuttle. There was another shuttle hovering in there. She couldn’t see them, but why did she have the feeling that Arty and Holly were in there? Something about mining charges? Bombs to blow a massive hole in the cavern walls and expose Haven to the world above. 

Why? She felt… angry? No, not just that. She felt so… alone.

Nopal dropped the truffle. It fell to the grass below, and just like that, she was back. Holly broke from her petty argument with Artemis to notice the pixie’s far-off expression. She had also dropped a truffle, so she walked over and picked it up.

“Arty, are these vegan?”

“Yes. What, do you think I go out and buy  _ milk chocolates _ ?”

“As if you do your own shopping,” the elf said, rolling her eyes. Holly wiped off the truffle that had fallen on the ground before returning her attention to the other fairy. “Hey, Nopal? You alright?”

This broke her out of her reverie. Nopal blinked several times before seemingly coming back to her senses.

“Ah. Yes.”

What was she doing again? Oh yes, trying a truffle out.

The pixie fished out another confectionary and popped it into her mouth. She chewed it delicately, savoring it as the chocolate notes spread across her palette. Oh. That was  _ good _ . She closed her eyes and her face melted into an expression of pure bliss. Whatever she just remembered at first wasn’t nearly as important as savoring these.

Artemis watched Nopal’s utter enjoyment. Holly noticed the expression on her face, and found her face softening into a fond grin. She couldn’t help it. Neither could Artemis. He didn’t know where it was coming from, but it was a simple truth.

There was something truly satisfying that came from feeding Nopal.


End file.
